


Darkest Hours

by Fenix_uzumaki



Series: Shadow Of A Flame [1]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Badass Flying Machines, Character Death, Family, Family Drama, Family Feels, Gen, September 11 Attacks, Survival, Terrorism, Tracy Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-01-04 14:12:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 109,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18345293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fenix_uzumaki/pseuds/Fenix_uzumaki
Summary: Summary - AU A field trip gone wrong traps sixteen-year-old Alan Tracy inside the South Tower on September 11th. It was just a normal day that quickly turns to a nightmare for the Tracy family and changes the world. A new age begins with an act of terrorism. It's a race against time for International Rescue, but can they handle the possibility of being too late?





	1. The Nightmare Begins

_ 9/10 – 9:00 p.m. EST _

**Astro Dome, New York City**

“When do you think Dad’s going to take me up in Thunderbird Three?” Alan asked softly as he stared up at the simulated stars above him. The room was dull and fairly quiet, the air filtered through a silencer designed by one of his father’s businesses so not even the sound of the AC could be heard. He imagined this was how it was like in space. Utter silence, penetrated only by the sheer beauty above him. How he wished they were real and he among them, but alas, one could not see the stars in the night sky in New York City, nor fly with them. Not without a rocket and space suit.

He was on a field trip to the city and Manhattan for two weeks during a special national youth scientific and inventor’s convention that he had entered with Fermat, not that his family knew. Oh, they knew about the field trip; just not the competition or his entering it. They were far too busy with International Rescue business for Alan to even consider asking them to attend any school events.

He had purposely made sure they did not know about any school events unless he told them – which was fairly rare in itself – by planting a subroutine on his father’s computer to block any incoming news from Wharton’s Academy unless it was sent directly by the principal. Even then, Alan could intercept the messages on his own computer and answer in his father’s stead, as he often did for minor field trips and the like.

Besides, his family had never questioned the lack of school events. Or, if they did, they never asked _him_. They more than likely assumed that he never did any school activities, which was fairly far from the truth. In reality, Alan was in a few extra-curricular activities, such as the track and field team, cross-country, and an ‘extra-credit’ program designed just for him by one of his teachers, a Mr. Swan. If his family knew about _that_ , his father would pull him out of school before he could cross the finish line in a T-180 on one of the fastest tracks!

He had always known that his love of racecars and racing would land him in trouble someday, but so far he had managed to keep it quiet. He was the youngest racer in the underground circuit, not that anyone other than his coach knew. It was a closely guarded secret. Just like International Rescue and the Thunderbirds.

There was only a week left in his trip, and part of him wished he had gone home for the Fall Break instead, since he had not been back to the Island since early July; however, Fermat had talked him into entering his racecar engine design into the competition. Though timid about it, Alan had. To his surprise, he had won first place in the Young Mechanic category.

The youngest Tracy was quite pleased with his achievement, yet he wondered how he would bring it up to his family. They would question why he was wasting his time on building a racing engine instead of his studies, and Alan could not handle that. So, naturally, he snuck away from his group and hid in the star room to call his second oldest brother, John, to talk about the Thunderbirds instead.

“ _For all you know, he might’ve been planning to take you up during this break, Sprout,_ ” John answered, his small holo-form smiling at him. “ _I’d have been glad for your company. I could have taken you out to the stars myself. Real ones, too. One of these days I’ll get you up here and you can spend a week or two with me._ ”

Alan glanced down at his watch, amusement in his eyes as he adjusted the specialized ear piece letting him hear his brother in such a public place. He had seated himself far away from anyone in the observatory, which only had a few people and no one he knew as the school group still on the building tour. He had chosen this room in particular to have some time to himself under the stars. That was one thing he missed about home – laying on the beach and looking up at the night sky. He could not even do that at Wharton’s Academy for Boys. Not without being interrupted, at least.

“Yeah, well, I decided to go on this field trip instead. Now I get to stare at simulated stars and not be dealing with a tropical storm. Such is life.” He almost felt bad for his family being stuck during a storm. Whenever the Thunderbirds were grounded by severe weather – and it took a lot to ground the mighty machines – there was down time. For a busy family like the Tracys, however, relaxing meant doing maintenance and catching up on paperwork. Gordon was more than likely going stir-crazy from not being able to swim during his downtime. It would be time for the Kyranos to do some extra cleaning around the inside of the villa as well.

“ _I hear you. That’s one thing I don’t miss about being on Earth – the storms._ ” John grinned and winked. “ _Scott must be going bonkers with being cooped up doing even more maintenance than usual._ ”

Alan raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding me? He loves working on ‘One.”

“ _Wax on, wax off, scoot, scoot, scoot!_ ” John giggled childishly in a horrible mockery of their oldest brother.

A snort exploded from him at his brother’s impression. “You’re awful.”

“ _I’m his younger brother, therefore I get to make fun of the Scooter, too,_ ” he argued petulantly.

“So you think, Astro-Nut,” the younger responded with a wry grin.

“ _Excuse me, Rocket Boy? I am_ **not** _a nut._ ”

“Scott’s not a scooter, either, yet look at what we call him.” He looked thoughtful for a moment, scratching his chin. “Honestly, I think only Gordon and Virgil are true to their nicknames, now that I think about it.”

“ _Fish-feet and Mozart. Yup. The rest of us, however…_ ”

“Yeah. I don’t know why you guys sometimes call me Rocket Boy, anyway. Dad won’t even let me near ‘Three.” It was a fairly sore subject for the younger Tracy. No matter how much he asked his father, the Tracy patriarch refused to give in.

“ _Probably because you have rockets on the mind all the time. Just like why we call you Sprout, because of your love for-_ ”

Feeling his watch vibrate, he told his brother to hold on a moment while he looked at the text message sent by Fermat. “Huh. Tour’s almost finished.”

Holo-John blinked. “ _Wait a minute. Aren’t you supposed to be with the rest of your group, Al? According to the schedule, you are supposed to be taking a tour of the Astro Dome? Are you skipping, young man? Gasp, what would Father think?_ ”

“Oh, hush. Just needed some time to myself. I’ll rejoin them in a couple minutes, you worrywart.” He settled back in his seat, continuing to stare at the simulated sky above him, wishing it would change to something new. Perhaps a view from the Moon.

To his surprise, the view seemed to do just that. He could see a fake Earth in the sky instead of the moon, and the view changed ever so slightly. A normal person would not have noticed right away, but Alan Tracy was obsessed with the stars. Always had been. He had forever felt at peace beneath their, well, _peacefulness_. It was the one memory of his mother he still had.

John shook his head and wiggled his finger at him. “ _Alan, you’re there on a school trip. Don’t go getting into trouble now. You’ll never hear the end of it from Dad. Or Scott._ ”

He had to laugh at that. Out of all his siblings, Scott was the most like their father in terms of being a mother hen. Actually, he was way worse. Especially towards him. Smother hen, in reality. “Don’t go telling them that I’m ditching, Johnny. You know why I came in here.”

Holo-John nodded. “ _I know, buddy. I know. That’s why I like it so much up here, too._ ”

The sixteen-year-old smiled and closed his eyes for a few minutes. “I just wish I remembered more about her, John. All I have is the stars. That’s why I want…”

“ _Want Dad to train you for Thunderbird Three. Yeah. You’ll have to wait until winter break now, kiddo, before you can really talk to him about that. I’ll even help you convince him. How about that?_ ”

“That’d be great. ‘One is great and all, but she’s no spaceship. ‘Three is so much more powerful and better. Like a racecar. Or a street racer.”

“ _Listen here, you adrenaline junkie,_ ” John began, but Alan waved him off.

“You’re not going to tell them about that, are you? You promised not to.”

“ _No, I’m not going to tell them as long as you don’t do it again until after you get a license. Understand?_ ”

“F.A.B.” Alan lied, knowing full well that his older brother did not know about the underground racing circuit he had joined. He was not about to tell him about that, either. Letting John know about the other event had been a slipup by Fermat. He had to keep some secrets to himself from his family! Otherwise, where was the fun? They more than likely would not approve, anyway, of his racing. Waste of time. Whenever there was a race on T.V., his family had almost always turned it off.

“ _You better not be lying to me, Alan. I’m_ always _watching you._ ”

“Creeper!”

“ _Stuff it, kiddo. Just want to make sure you’re safe, given how far away you are from the rest._ ”

Alan bit his lip. “You’re a lot further away than I am, John,” he murmured, focusing on the constellations and mentally naming each one and the star belonging to it. “You _chose_ to go work in ‘Five. I was _forced_ to leave for school, if you recall. Only one of the family made to go to boarding school. Life is utterly great there…”

“ _Alan? You know that Dad only did what he thought was best for you._ ”

“Yeah. Sending me away. Lucky me. I know I’m not his favorite kid, but he could at least pretend to like me.”

John frowned and crossed his arms. “ _Sprout, Dad loves you. He wanted you to have a distraction-free education. As for favorite child, the eldest always gets that slot. Just like you’ll always be the baby._ ”

He cracked a small smile at that. “Just because Scott’ll one day take over the company… As for a distraction-free education…” He sighed. There was nothing distraction-free at Wharton’s. Jerks who picked on Fermat and him, locker break-ins, some of his gadgets going missing… It was one reason why he had given his phone up for a non-suspicious looking watch that doubled as a full-on communicator with holographic projection. No one would try to steal a boring old watch.

“ _What, a pretty girl on your mind?_ ”

“You realize it’s an all-boy school, right?” he mused, looking at his brother’s holographic form. Honestly, he had enough of girls lately. How many times had he been cornered by people who wanted him for his money or because he was the son of Jeff Tracy? Even on this field trip, he had been sought out by people. Frankly, he was sick of it.

“ _Oh, I was thinking more of an island girl with brown hair and chocolate eyes… Name rhymes with Gin-Gin?_ ”

Hearing John laugh at his reddening face, he gave him an almost cat-like hiss. “You’re a jerk.” Okay, there was at least one girl he could handle, and she just happened to be his best friend… that was a girl.

“ _Just admit that you have a huge crush on her!_ ”

He scratched the back of his head nervously. “I was… thinking about asking her to go to the Winter Dance.”

“ _Awe!_ ”

He blushed horribly. “Shut up, John! Just as friends!”

“ _Uh-huh. Awe, you’re so cute! Better get a move on, though. There’s a betting pool going. I think the only one who says you’re not going to get together is Gordon._ ”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

“ _He says that she’s too good for you._ ”

“Oh. Ouch.” He frowned. Had Gordon meant it in jest? Or did he really believe such things?

“ _Though, I think he said that because you stole his scuba gear._ ”

“Yeah, well, he dyed my hair Thunderbird Red. Serves him right.”

“ _He’s going crazy, Alan._ ”

“I don’t care. He can wait until winter break to get it back if he doesn’t find it first. Which, given where I hid it, he won’t.”

John snorted. “ _You’re cruel._ ”

“He shouldn’t have dyed my hair. I get enough jerks at school without having them at home, too!” He bit his lip. Whoops.

Holo-John frowned. “ _Alan? What’s going at school that you’re not telling me?_ ”

He refused to look at the holo-form. “It’s nothing, John… Nothing I’ve not dealt with before.”

“ _Alan… Are you being bullied?_ ”

For a moment, the teenager thought about telling him the truth. He always told John the truth – well, except for the racing circuit. He was saved, however, by Fermat’s appearance in the doorway, telling him to hurry up. “Listen, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow night, maybe.”

“ _We’ll be discussing this tomorrow, Alan. Don’t make me get Scott involved. Go rest up. You have a busy day tomorrow. Don’t go getting into more trouble, ya hear?_ ” John repeated, giving him a pointed look.

“What, me? I’m in New York. What kind of trouble can I get into?”

“ _Given your track record…_ ”

“Oh, shut it, spaceman.”

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/10 – 9:15 p.m. EST _

**Thunderbird Five**

John shook his head as Alan signed off. Goofy kid. Still, John loved him. It was hard to not love the youngest Tracy, despite his teenage mood swings. Yet, this about the bullying at school… and having heard about Alan street racing some guy from Fermat… John was starting to worry about his youngest brother. He had always questioned his father sending the youngest away to the mainland for school. At least the Sprout had Fermat, so he had a part of home with him.

“ _Thunderbird Five, this is Tracy Island. John, how’re the stars this fine afternoon?_ ”

Thoughts of Alan were pushed to the side as Scott’s holo-form appeared before him. He had almost forgotten that it was time for Scott to check in. A grin crossed his face at the sight of his brown-haired, blue-eyed elder. “Hey there, big brother. The stars are just as beautiful as they always are, as is the world below me. Nice storm system, by the way. Looks like a beauty!”

“ _Tell me about it. It’s quite a doozy. I don’t think we’ll be launching any time soon. Clean up is going to be a pain in the ass._ ” Scott shook his head, his form fizzling slightly. “ _Talk to Alan lately? He’s been ignoring our calls again._ ”

“Well, given that the only reason Gordon contacts him is to demand him to reveal the location of the missing scuba gear, you act like a smother hen, Virgil tells him to change his underwear every day and take his vitamins, while Dad always telling him to do great things, no wonder he doesn’t want to talk to you guys.”

“ _Ah… So, he’s having a bad day then._ ”

“Scott.” John crossed his arm, putting on his best annoyed face. “Have any of you ever tried just _talking_ to him? I’m starting to get worried about him.”

He raised an eyebrow. “ _If_ you’re _starting to worry, that gives us reason to worry. What’s up?_ ” Holo-Scott sat in a chair on his end.

“Just a few things he’s mentioned here and there… I’ll get it out of him at some point, Scooter, so don’t worry your pretty little overly gelled head about it. Besides, I know you. You tend to freak over the smallest things. Just leave him be for a bit and he’ll give you a contact eventually.” John smiled reassuringly. Honestly, if his brothers and father would just give Alan as much space as John did, the teenager would open up to them more.

“ _Why does he always open up to you? I’m hurt. I’m the eldest! Practically raised him! Does that count for nothing these days?_ ”

“Ah, but I’m his favorite,” he teased.

“ _Only because you’re in the stars, Astro-Nut!_ ” Gordon piped up, showing up next to Scott. “ _We all know I’m his real favorite!_ ”

“You dyed his hair red, Gordon. He had to bleach it back to normal! You are his least favorite currently.”

“ _You mean I_ allegedly _dyed his hair red._ ”

The blond raised an eyebrow. “Gordon.”

“ _Okay, I did it. Jerk shouldn’t have stolen my cookie._ ”

“YOU DYED HIS HAIR BECAUSE HE STOLE A COOKIE?!”

“ _GORDON!_ ”

“ _Whoa, whoa! It was one of the cookies that Lady P brought out from France!_ ”

“Oh, well then, that makes it okay,” John responded sarcastically. “That was a horrible summer! You know he has Mom’s temperament!”

“ _Kid needs to learn to take a joke._ ”

“Yeah, well, he deals with enough at school as it is and then comes home to that.”

“ _What do you mean?_ ” Scott questioned.

“Nope. If you want to know, ask him yourself on the weekend. I believe Sunday is free day for the group. He has to get to bed. Early day tomorrow. He’s going to the Twin Towers.”

Scott and Gordon both frowned at being left out of the loop.

“ _What are you guys doing? You’re supposed to be helping me wash the ‘Birds!_ ” Virgil yelled from out of the picture.

“ _Talking to John, obviously,_ ” Gordon responded.

“Hey, Virge,” John greeted as his first younger brother appeared in the holo-form. “These two slacking off? Naughty, naughty.”

“ _Very much so. Just because it’s a storm doesn’t mean we shouldn’t get some things done. I’ve already re-arranged my medical bay,_ ” Doctor Virgil spoke, looking quite pleased with himself.

“You boys better get to it. And remember, if you want to annoy Alan, he has Sunday free, according to the field trip schedule.” John laughed a bit at their upset expressions. Part of him wished he was down on Earth, but the storm had delayed his pick-up. Well, that, and the fact that Alan had chosen to go on a field trip instead of going home, which had been a main reason for John’s trip home.

“And, hey, talk to Dad about Alan and ‘Three. You all know how much he wants to fly her.”

“ _Oh, we’re well aware. That’s why were surprised that he decided on the field trip,_ ” Scott responded. “ _Then again, Dad was keeping taking him up a surprise. If Alan had known…_ ”

“He would have been torn between two things and Fermat might have had to miss out on the convention, since he didn’t want to go alone. We all know that Alan wouldn’t do that to him.”

“ _Are we sure it’s Tin-Tin Alan’s into?_ ”

“ _Gordon!_ ”

“ _I’m just saying._ ”

“ _It’s fairly obvious that Alan has a major crush on Tin-Tin and not Fermat, you dork,_ ” Scott responded.

“Given how much he was blushing when I mentioned her name, yeah,” John snorted, grinning at the laughter on the other end of the line. “There’s also the fact that he’s trying to figure out how to ask her to the Winter Dance.”

“ _Squee! Are you serious?!_ ”

John blinked. “Did you just… Squee?” he asked, staring at Virgil’s holo-form.

“ _Not at all,_ ” the doctor grinned.

“Liar. Our boy is growing up.” He wiped a fake tear from his eye.

“ _Faster than any of us want to admit,_ ” Scott mused. “ _Sixteen already…_ ”

“ _He’s been sixteen for a few months now, Scooter,_ ” Gordon laughed. “ _Or are you forgetting that in your old age?_ ”

“ _I’m not old._ ”

“Oh, but you are,” John grinned. “Compare us to Alan, and we’re all old.”

“ _Well, he is seven years younger than Gordon, ten years younger than Virgil, twelve from you, and thirteen from me… Yes, we’re all old geezers,_ ” Scott chuckled.

“None of us have dates, either.” John frowned in annoyance. Well, that was not quite true. There was a fellow astronaut that worked at a new space station, Global One, that he had his eye one.

“ _We committed ourselves to the organization. Then again, we all have our eyes on someone,_ ” Scott snorted. “ _It’s just hard to date and keep such a secret at the same time._ ”

John shook his head. “Not that this isn’t depressing and all, but I’m going to get some sleep. I’ve already set up the automatic response system telling that we are shut down for maintenance. It’ll be nice to have a full night’s sleep for once. I’ll talk to you guys tomorrow.”

“ _Night, John!_ ” all three chorused out.

Smiling, John ended the call and stretched a bit. Now it was time for some popcorn and a quick movie before bed. Having time off was great. Hopefully, things would remain calm for a while.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

9/11 – 7:40 A.M. EST

**Lobby of the South Twin Tower of the World Trade Center**

_“Another beautiful morning on the Island of Manhattan! The sun is rising over the smallest sky scrapers as we speak, so those working in towers might want to don their sunglasses! I’m your morning host, John Megobas, and I’ll be keeping you filled in the rest of the morn-”_

Anne McCarthy stifled a yawn as she glanced at her watch after switching off her desk radio. The time was twenty to eight, and the student group from Wharton’s Academy for Boys from Massachusetts would be arriving at any time. Anne was not exactly pleased about this, as she hated teenagers with a passion. Nasty, smelly, destructive little beasts! How many times did the school groups that came through the building make a mess? More times than they were worth! It did not matter that she was only a few years older; she had always disliked playing nice with others. Unlike her sister, she was not a people person.

The only reason the young woman had volunteered to take them around was because one of them was the sixteen-year-old Alan Tracy, youngest son of the billionaire and former astronaut Jeff Tracy. If she played her cards right, she could get in with the big boys instead of remaining here as a receptionist. Just about all the boys at that school were from well-off families with large trust funds to their names. Some were even of legal age! Lucky bastards.

That was why she had dressed so precisely today in a knee-length navy blue skit and jacket, neat and pressed. Her jacket was not closed, and her blouse was low-cut, showing just the right amount of cleavage without being trashy or getting an official reprimand. Her blonde hair was tied up in a tight bun; her eyes piercing, and she wore light, fairly natural makeup, with a contrasting dark lipstick that was delicately painted onto her tightly clenched lips. Her shoes, which added an extra two and a half inches to her height, were black.

Checking herself once again in her small compact mirror to make sure there was not one strand of hair out of place, the young receptionist was unhappy when she realized that her hair style choice was not perfect enough for such young male minds. Who would want her if she was in such a state? She looked like an old maid!

Glancing at the clock on the wall, she excused herself to go to the bathroom and released her mid-back length locks of wavy hair and tasseled it just enough to create a striking appearance. Finally satisfied, she went back out to her desk and waited, looking out to the large courtyard that stood between the two towers with impatience.

Would Alan Tracy be in her group? Or would he be in the group of boys going to the North Tower with her elder sister? The nineteen-year-old hoped beyond hope that the young billionaire would be in her group. If only there was a way to check! Oh, wait. She had a list!

Digging through her desk, she finally located and nearly let out a squeal of excitement when she found his name on the group of five students, along with the names of other silver spoon babies – Joshua Matthews, Erik Santee, Robert Jones, Issac Lawson. These five students had been entered into a school raffle and they, along with five other students that would be in the other group, had been the winners selected to journey to New York City for two weeks for a conference of some sort. At least, from her understanding it had been a raffle. Or had it been a competition? What did it matter, anyway?

From what she knew, they had been staying at the most expensive hotel in the city and living the life of luxury, a life she had craved from the time she was small and had realized her family could barely afford to feed themselves. She had promised herself that she would escape the gutters and make something of herself, if only to save her parents from the poverty they remained in.

If she had to make a fool of herself to get the attention of these young, rich, spoiled brats, she would do so. Maybe these rich boys would be better behaved than the regular school groups... and hopefully not worse. Then again, who really cared? If she could attract at least one of them, she would be happy.

She was determined to make the best of today. To have an absolutely perfect morning.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/11 – 7:50 a.m. EST _

**Courtyard between North and South Tower**

At sixteen-years-old and standing in the light of the sunrise, Alan Shepard Tracy was youthful and handsome, despite the boring blue Wharton Academy uniform. His messy blond hair and cerulean blue eyes simply accented his features. He was only 5’8”, the shortest and scrawniest of his brothers, but he made up for it with quick reflexes and expert driving skills. Not that he would tell them, given that he was racing illegally. Nope, that was one thing he would not let his father know. Only John knew what he had done, and even then, he did not know all of it.

All it had taken was one joyride due to a challenge by Joshua Matthews, who had taken Fermat’s science project the night before the big science fair, where his project was worth fifty percent of his grade. Alan had not been about to let his friend’s GPA suffer because of idiots who mocked his stutter and liked to pick on him. Alan had easily won the race, weaving in and out of obstacles as if he had been driving for years as a profession stuntman. After flying a Thunderbird, a T-180 was nothing!

Alan had always been cool and collected behind the wheel of a vehicle. He could focus so much more. He sat behind the wheel of a car or the throttle of a Thunderbird, and the world made sense. Anything else, however, left him rather dazed and not quite sure how to fit in.

That was why he was a prime target for bullies most of the time. He was a ditzy daydreamer with his head among the stars instead of earthbound. At least things had changed somewhat in recent months. Not by much, though. Joshua was still his number one hater.

_Crunch!_

Wincing, Alan looked down to see what he had broken this time with his clumsy feet. Picking up Fermat’s phone with a now badly cracked screen, he frowned. “Uh, Ferm? What’s your phone doing on the ground?” Glancing over at his friend, his eyes narrowed. “Hey! Leave him alone!” he growled, pulling Fermat away from the group of bullies that had accompanied the school group. “You want to get to him, you go through me!” His eyes narrowed at them, fingertips tingling.

Fermat thanked him, taking his phone back. Those bullies would thankfully be going in a different group, the South Tower group, but they always tormented him if Alan was not around or paying attention. “My screen...”

Alan looked away from the bullies, who had dispersed after their phones all suddenly went on the fritz, much to his amusement, and returned his gaze to his young friend and the broken screen. “Here, let me see it,” he muttered, taking it and examining the screen as he ran a tingling fingertip over it. To his astonishment, the specialized glass began to repair itself after giving him a slight shock. “Huh. Neat trick of your Dad’s, Ferm.”

Catching the tossed back phone, Fermat was confused. “Trick? Wh-What are you ta-talking about?” He looked at his friend, eyes widening. What was going on with his eyes? Were they... slit? Wait, no, they were back to normal. Must have been a trick of the light. Then again, this was not the first time since the Hood’s invasion – and defeat – that Fermat had noticed odd things going on with his friend and circuitry.

The first instance going back to Thunderbird Four, the one Thunderbird that Fermat knew for a fact that Alan had never played in, yet he had piloted like he had been using it for years. Same thing went for Thunderbird One. Sure, they had pretended to be flying the mighty ship, but actually do it? How had Alan known the controls so well?

The only thing Alan had technically screwed up on was the landing, which had been rather bumpy. After that, there were other little odds and ends, such as a broken coffee machine repairing itself after he had touched it, or making a broken hoverbike work like it was brand new. It made no sense to the young future engineer.

“Self-repairing circuitry and things connected to it or whatever!” Alan simplified. “That’s neat. Wish I had thought of that. Though, mention to him that it gives off a static shock.”

After texting his father about such things, and getting a response, Fermat looked more confused. “Uh, A-Alan, my D-Dad’s not cr-created anyth-thing like that...” the younger boy began, but the older teenager was beyond hearing.

The youngest Tracy craned his neck to look straight up between the giant towers he stood between. The tallest buildings in the world! Honestly, it was amazing to look upon. Not quite as amazing as Thunderbirds One and ‘Three – ‘Three being his absolute favorite, not that he would admit to anyone other than his space brother – but it was not half bad.

"Isn't it a-am-amazing, A-Alan?" the fifteen-year-old Fermat Hackenbacker stuttered from his place at his right side upon realizing that Alan had forgotten their previous conversation. Like his older friend, Fermat was astonished at the accomplishment of engineering, that something so tall could be standing. Pushing his thick blue glasses up his nose, he took a deep breath and ran his hand through his spiky brown hair. Fermat had entered puberty with grace, having become quite the handsome young man.

“Yeah, it is. And, before you start, don’t start listing facts about them again. You drove me nuts with that last night after we got back from the observatory,” the Tracy responded with a laugh. “Even in your sleep!”

Fermat closed his mouth immediately, his lips curling into a smile at his best friend’s light teasing. He had looked up, and essentially memorized, every fact he could find about the World Trade Centers, and, Alan, being his roommate, had been the one he had repeated them to. _Multiple_ times.

“Scott had always said they were amazing to see up close. All I’ve ever seen of them is from flying nearby or driving. Or, ya know, the internet. Scotty was actually right about something for once. Other than Gordon is a horrible cook. Then again, so is Scott, so he had no right to complain. Virgil’s the only decent one, and he taught me, so we’re pretty much the only two of us brothers that can really cook. John’s not bad, though, but he’s no Virgil.”

“Def-Definitely.” Fermat laughed and nodded. He had been here once before in his youth with his father, but he did not remember much about the trip, having been so young. “Yeah. W-We’re h-here now, t-tho-though,” he replied, slipping his phone into his pocket after taking a quick selfie with Alan and texting it out to their families back home on Tracy Island.

He knew that Alan would have done the same, but the Tracy had traded in his phone for a communication watch with all the same features. Like Alan, Fermat had the same device, but chose to use it only for emergencies, whereas Alan used it for everything else. Alan had been utterly delighted when the new line of communication devices had been announced by Brains, and immediately adopted one for his own.

He opened his mouth to speak again when their teachers interrupted them.

“All right, students! Split into your pre-assigned groups!” Mr. Swan, a red-haired plump man, called to the assembled group. Though there were only ten of them, the volume of talking combined with the nearby traffic was such that he was not heard. In a louder voice, he repeated himself, and then again in a near shout. Finally, a shrill whistle pierced the courtyard, and instantaneously he received the attention he had wanted to begin with.

Removing his index and middle fingers from his mouth, he glared at them. “Thank you! As I was saying, while your attention was so very occupied with other, more important matters, _I’m sure_ , please split into your pre-assigned groups.” Pleased, he watched as they did just that.

Beside him, Mr. Maus, the bald, body-builder giant physical education teacher, spoke next. “Let’s make sure you get into your right groups, shall we? North group is Fermat Hackenbacker, Ray Pilot, Edward Bellingham, Roy Finkleton, and Alex Riley. You will be touring the North Tower with our host, Katie McCarthy, and myself. Now, group two is the rest of you. You will be visiting the South Tower with Mr. Swan and Anne McCarthy.” He looked up from his clipboard and surveyed them as a few switched to their rightful groups. “Great! Now that that is settled, North group, follow me.”

Fermat and the other four boys followed the man. The young genius quickly turned around and mouthed a goodbye to his friend before hurrying after his group.

Alan watched him go, feeling a bit sad that he had not been allowed to be with his friend, but understood why – they constantly got into trouble together, like the time they had blown up the science lab on his twelfth birthday while helping the teacher with an experiment in fireworks with _interesting_ results. Very _explosive_ results. Yeah, that had _not_ been a good day. His brothers still would not let him live it down. Nor stop laughing about it.

"Great! We've got Thunder _turd_  Tracy!" a voice behind the young adult sneered. “Head up in the stars, dreaming about being a hero! Like International Rescue would recruit someone like you! Set your expectations lower, like the mailroom, you flunkie!”

Alan turned on the spot and glared at the much bigger Joshua Matthews. Joshua was a muscle-packed, 6’8” eighteen-year-old with a big attitude and even larger ego. He had brown hair with thin blond streak and honey-brown eyes. He constantly took every opportunity to make Alan’s miserable, with the reasoning that Alan’s father was a business rival of Joshua’s. He thoroughly enjoyed making the youngest Tracy’s life unhappy. More than once had they gotten into a physical altercation that usually ended up with Alan in trouble with the headmaster. Joshua was never blamed for anything, as the Headmaster and Joshua’s father were golfing buddies.

The only time Joshua had nothing negative to say to Alan was when Alan had beat him in a car race. Not that either could say anything about that in front of the teacher. That was a pact they and the group of student witnesses had made, though he was sure there was a video file of it somewhere – probably on the _WTF WAR-TOWN_ website run by the students. It was not a very friendly website, as anything could be posted on it if you had the password to even access it.

Since the race, however, Alan realized that he could hold his own against the larger boy after all. He had become more daring, too, signing up for driving lessons with his new permit, and shortly after discovered the underground racing circuit, which he entered with a false I.D. with the help of a teacher that sponsored him. Mr. Swan, actually.

Mr. Spritle Swan was a former racer, and he happened to have been out driving the day of the challenge between the students. He had since taken Alan under his wing and taught him all he knew about racing, the tricks of the trade, as well as how to build a racecar and engine. When he was sure that Alan was ready, he had gotten him a fake I.D. under the name of Kayo Swan, and let him drive his old T-180 in the circuit. It worked out for both of them: Mr. Swan took most of the winnings, and Alan got to race and earn much needed extra credit.

Alan quite liked his teacher, and had taken him on as a mentor. It was through his tutoring that Alan had designed his award-winning racing engine at the convention. His teacher often told him that he had a future as a champion racer. That he had a rare gift.

He also knew about the rivalry between Joshua and Alan, and usually would let them settle it between themselves provided it did not go too far.

“And we, unfortunately, have Diaper Boy Matthews. Did you put a fresh one on this morning? Or is the old one riding up your butt?” Alan retorted, referring to one of the Matthews family businesses, Matthews Diapers, the most popular baby diaper brand in the world.

Hearing the other boys snicker, Joshua’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?! Do you want to go, you scrawny toothpick?” he growled.

“Scrawny toothpick, huh? That’s a new one,” Alan snorted, catching one of the boys pick out their previously fritzy phone to record what was going on. Great. Another video out on the web. He was fairly surprised his family did not know about the other videos that had been posted about him. Most of them were negative, actually, so Alan was fairly glad that his family never cared to look up such things. Not that they could, given that the videos primarily went up on the _WTF WAR-TOWN_ site. “Not your best, but, alas, you got the brawn, not the brains. That’s why Fermat and I took first place in the convention instead of your non-placing failure.”

“WHAT?! Tracy, I’m warning you!” Joshua’s eyes were narrow as he started towards the younger and shorter student, but stopped when Mr. Swan put his arm between them.

“Enough,” the teacher spoke, wishing he was paid more to deal with these childish arguments from young adults, though it was fairly entertaining. “You are representing Wharton’s and your respected families! How dare either of you behave in such a manner?”

“He started it,” Alan stated somewhat petulantly with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. “Didn’t get any diaper cream this morning, apparently, for that rash. He’s going to need some ice for his burns if he doesn’t get that taken care of. I can’t imagine what those will do to his-”

“Oh, that is it!” The larger boy lumbered towards him, fists at the ready. To his surprise, Alan dropped back, and Joshua missed connecting his knuckles with his target’s jaw. Alan had somehow dodged his attack! “What are you doing, Twinkle Toes? Can’t face me?!”

“Oh, I could, but this is so much more fun,” Alan grinned as he moved his upper body in the opposite direction of Joshua’s fists, finding this quite fun. It was a nice way to test out his physical training from Lady Penelope and Parker. As an added bonus, he got to show up his bully! If only Gordon could see this! He would get a kick out of it! He would have to tell him about it later.

“Boys!” Mr. Swan warned, years of practicing his teacher face keeping his expression straight and not allowing his amusement through.

“I’m not doing anything, sir. I am merely dodging his swings,” the younger teen responded honestly. “It’s not that difficult, actually. I think he’s trying to give us ballet lessons. Though, given that he absolutely sucks, I will not be paying for any from him and would like to cancel my trial membership, thank you very much.”

Joshua gave one last swing amidst the roaring laughter of the gathered group, throwing himself off balance as he spun and hit the ground with his hands and knees. “You little sh-”

“One more word from either of you, and you’ll be going back to the hotel!” Mr. Swan stated as he helped Joshua back up. “That goes for both of you! We’re running late as it is, and we need to get to the building. Do not disgrace your families in front of the world!”

“This is bullcrap, and you know it,” Joshua responded, giving up on the fight. “He needs a good punch.”

“Because he called you a diaper boy? Is it really worth it? You called him a name first,” Mr. Swan responded, choosing to ignore other statements made. If it had not been for where they were, he more than likely would have let the fight continue. It _had_ been entertaining, after all. Being a teacher was fairly boring, which was why he quite enjoyed his time teaching Alan to race. The extra money did not hurt things, either. “Stop this childishness! Both of you! You can settle this later. We are running late!”

Joshua grumped and shrugged him off. Regaining his composure, he walked past Alan, giving him a vicious shoulder bump that knocked him off balance, and went back over to his only friend in the group. “At least _my_ family shows up for school events. Yours doesn’t even give two shits about _you_. Probably why they sent you away in the first place.”

Mr. Swan chose to ignore the attack and instead got his group rounded up and lead them into the lobby of the South Tower, keeping a firm grip on the furious Tracy’s shoulder.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/11 – 8:00 a.m. EST _

**Lobby of the North Tower**

Fermat sighed. He was upset that Alan was not in his group, and that he would not see his friend all day. That disappointment, however, was nothing compared to the excitement he held at finally being able to experience the Towers after all his weeks of research. Looking over at his guide, he tuned into what she was saying.

Katie McCarthy stood in front of the students in an outfit similar to her much younger sister, but with more finesse and self-respect. At twenty-five-years-old, she dressed for success and enjoyed being a tour guide. Unlike her sister, she not only did student groups, but business men of repute! She did not struggle with self-identity like Anne, either, and had more than enough money due to her contacts within the tour groups that came through.

“We’re going to begin our tour from the bottom up, while your fellow students in the South Tower start from the top and work their way down. We will break for lunch around eleven o’clock precisely, before returning to our tour. At four o’clock, we will conclude our tour with the gift shops in the concord mall and you will be free to return to your trip!” she spoke, speaking with just enough enthusiasm to not be overbearing nor boring. “Now then, please follow me and we shall begin!”

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/11 – 8:20 a.m. EST _

**South Tower, 85th Floor**

Alan yawned. When they had walked into the lobby of the South Tower, Anne McCarthy and her icy, fake smile greeted them. The first thing Alan had thought when he had seen how she was dressed for a tour with teenagers could be summed up in one word: Desperate.

She had sidled right up to Joshua, addressing him a few times as Mr. Tracy, much to Alan’s amusement. When Joshua corrected her and pointed him out, much to her disgusted expression, she switched tactics. From then on, she seemed to be trying to get closer to him with major personal space issues. He was not sure if she had purposely brushed her hand past his butt, but he chalked it up to her being socially awkward and let it go. It was not the first time such things happened, nor would it be the last.

There were other subtleties that were not quite so subtle, such as a breast push-up, a little jiggle here and there, and other annoyances. Apparently, she did not get the memo that he was not interested. If his brothers had been there, they would have let her have it for being a creep. Scott probably would have had her arrested for pedophilia. Alan was half-tempted to contact his oldest brother to get some help in that subject when she got even closer to him, but quickly remembered that it was almost two in the morning back home. No point in angering any of them over something so trivial.

Mr. Swan had come to his rescue and had told her to remain away from the teenagers if she was going to behave in such a manner. In response, the tour guide had become monotonous and boring, sometimes speaking with hostility in his direction.

After that, Alan had begun daydreaming in the back of the group, bored out of his mind. Minutes passed, things were going fine. The tour guide seemed to be getting softer in tone. It was not until he felt arms around his waist pulling him back against someone’s hips did he snap out of his dreams of floating among the stars after piloting Thunderbird Three on a rescue. Lurching forward and turning around, he struck his harasser with a clenched fist. “Leave me the hell alone, you damn perverted pedophile!” he snarled loudly, glaring at the tour guide.

Anne stumbled back, eyes narrow as her hand raised up to the reddening cheek. “How… How dare you touch me!”

“No, how dare you?” Mr. Swan growled, grabbing her by the arm. “He is only sixteen! Someone call the cops. I’ve had enough of you trying to fondle him!”

Alan refused to stay any longer. “I’ll be on 77,” he spoke up before hurrying towards the thankfully just opening elevator and punching in the button for the correct floor. He knew he should just go down to the lobby, but needed to be close enough that he could give his statement. He just had to get away and not look at her. It was not the first time he had been physically assaulted like that, but it had been a while since someone had tried to do it in such a way. Keyword being _tried_. Last time, his brother Scott had been present and the person had gotten quite a butt whooping.

Getting out on the 77th floor, he found himself an empty corner, plopped himself down, and pulled out his journal. His pencil strokes were angry as he doodled a drawing of the three main Thunderbirds. He forced back the tears that threatened to fall. This was so stupid. This was why he hated being at a boarding school, away from his family. His over-protective brothers and father.

He had to force himself from calling them. There was nothing they could do, anyway. Tracy One could not fly in such weather, and his father and brothers would just be burning with fury until they could come to his aide.

No, he would handle this himself for now.

Clenching eyes shut, he slammed his pencil into his journal and snapped the book shut, stuffing it back into his satchel. Pulling his knees up close to his chest, he buried his head. This day was _so_ not going the way he had planned.

“Tracy.”

He stiffened the voice. Great. Joshua was here to gloat. Just what he needed right now. Tightening his grip on his sleeves, he refused to raise his head. Maybe he would just go away.

“I’m going to sit next to you, okay?”

Something was not right. Why was Joshua being… nice? Alan listened to the sounds of his bully settling in next to him, thankfully putting some distance between their bodies. “What do you want? To laugh?”

“Look, I know I might beat you up on occasion, but even I would not laugh at something like this. Mr. Swan sent me down here after you to make sure you were safe. I know more about what you’re going through than you think.”

The blond lifted his head, a questioning aspect upon his face.

Joshua would not look at him, instead staring out the window. “I’d rather not go into the details. Being the son in a rich family is not all its chalked up to be, huh? You got people who want you for your money, kidnapping attempts, and, yeah, even attempted sexual assault and harassment. If Mr. Swan hadn’t stepped in that moment, she would have gotten a right hook from me. That kind of assault against anyone is uncalled. Even a prick like you.”

Joshua took a deep breath, just sitting there in silence and ignoring the office workers that were glancing in their direction from time to time. “We can stay here as long as you want. Eric’ll give me a call when you’re needed for your statement. I don’t know if it’ll be up there or down in the lobby, though.”

The younger teenager remained silent, mulling over this information. At least he was not being made fun of that, and for that he was grateful. He was not quite sure what he would do if Joshua began laughing at him, to be honest. Would he sit there and take it, or would he just catch a ride back to the hotel and deal with the consequences later?

“What do you think they’re going to serve us for lunch?”

The question was so out of the blue that Alan could not stop the smile curling at his lips. “Hamburgers, hopefully. Brussels sprouts, too.” He was still fairly miffed that there had been none of his favorite greens available at that morning’s breakfast.

Joshua cocked an eyebrow. “You might be a rich boy, but you damn sure don’t act like one. I mean, hamburgers? You should be eating the best premium steak money can buy!”

“I’ll take my McDonalds, thank you very much,” the younger responded, the shock starting to wear away and a cool feeling falling over him. While it had been surprising what Anne McCarthy had tried, it was far from the worst that had ever happened. She would be taken into custody, and he might be able to go about his day. Worry about things later. At least, until his family got a call stating that there was an incident. Lovely.

“This tour sucks. I’m going to go get a drink real quick now that the lights aren’t flickering so much. Started around the time you left. Anyway, stay there.” Joshua got up and left, but never out of Alan’s sight as he raided a vending machine.

Laughing, he nodded. It really had. Fermat was probably having fun, though. Lifting up his watch, he formed the holographic keyboard and shot a message to his younger friend, wondering where exactly he was. It was now 8:44. Lunch seemed so far away!

Upon receiving the reply that his friend was still not very far up the other building, Alan smiled a bit, telling him that he would see him soon enough for lunch, given how fast they were going through the tour without giving anything away. He was not about to trouble Fermat with his problems, though he knew his friend would find out soon enough once word got out, if it had not already.

Thanks to Joshua, he was already feeling much better. Able to refocus himself. Who would have thought it was possible?

The other teenager soon plopped down next to him again, passing him a strawberry soda. “This is your favorite flavor, right?” At his nod, he turned his head away. “Now, don’t think me being nice to you right now is going to save you from an ass-kicking later. I’m still quite angry about earlier, Thunder _turd_.”

Alan smirked, taking a sip of the drink and pleased he had gotten the holographic keyboard put away before Joshua saw it. “Yeah, I figured you would be, Diaper Boy. I’ll schedule you in somewhere. How does five o’clock sound?”

“Oh, shut the hell up and drink your soda.”

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/11 – 8:45 a.m. EST _

**North Tower, 10th Floor**

Fermat was enjoying himself, despite his friend’s interrupting texts. Why could Alan not simply enjoy the tour of the magnificent buildings? Why did he have to constantly think about food? Oh, wait. Fermat knew the answer to that all too well. He was a Tracy, and Tracys loved food. Especially Alan.

Nonetheless, he answered his friend’s texts and slid his phone in his pocket after putting it on silent. He could talk to Alan again at lunch, if they were eating together, or he would talk to him that evening when meeting up in the exercise room at the hotel. Alan had asked him to go with him while he trained for his upcoming cross-country meet. It was the final competition of the fall season, and Alan was determined to come out on top. Fermat had appointed himself as his best friend’s personal coach. While the young genius was not very athletic himself, he did enjoy being there for his friend while the Tracys could not make it.

Returning his focus to Ms. McCarthy’s speech about the exciting and fascinating history of the North Twin Tower. It did not matter to him that he knew most, if not all, of what she was saying before she said it herself.

"Does anyone know how many people work on a single floor?" Ms. McCarthy questioned, smiling at her bright young students.

His hand shot up immediately with eagerness and pleasure filled him when she called on him. “It va-varies from f-floor to f-floor, but on th-this fl-floor, I be-believe there are-” He broke off as the building shuddered and a loud explosion filled the air. He stumbled and fell backward, startled by the quake, and struck his head against a desk. For a few brief moments, his mind was confused as to what had just occurred, but did not have any time to think about it as darkness swam into his vision and he slipped into unconsciousness.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

**South Tower, 77th Floor**

“Holy freakin’ crap!” Joshua shouted, pointing out the window as the upper levels of the North Tower exploded into a giant fireball. Smoke billowed from the gaping hole in the side of the building, thick and black. Papers from the damaged floors fell like snow to the world below. Hanging from some of the beams were people. Some fell. Others jumped.

Alan jumped from his just-starting daydreams of flying Thunderbird Three at the sound of the explosion and resulting shockwave. Eyes widening with wonder, he shot up, looking at the rising smoke with a drop in his jaw.

He glanced at Joshua for a moment, pleased that he was distracted and would not try to direct him back to the rest of the group on floor 85, and backed away from the window, trying to find a remote spot. Since most of the people on the floor were gathering around the windows facing the North Tower, he took his leave.

“Tracy! Tracy, where’d you go?! Get back here, you wuss! We need to go join the rest of the group!”

Oh boy. Alan ducked into a cubicle, hiding from Joshua for a moment. Touching the sides of his watch, he relaxed slightly as the retinal scanner verified his identity. Relief flooded through him as the watch face shifted to a computer screen with the International Rescue logo as the signal found the nearest satellite dish that would bounce the signal up to Thunderbird Five. He did not have long to wait before the line picked up.

“ _This is International Rescue. We are down for the next few days for necessary maintenance. We apologize for the inconvenience, but are automatically patching you through to local authorities._ ”

Annoyance bubbled with him. Canceling the call, he attempted to contact Tracy Island, but received no signal. Right, the tropical storm. Frustrated, he called his space-bound brother again. “Come on, John… Answer me!”

“Tracy!” Joshua called out again.

“ _This is International Rescue. We are down for-_ ”

“Damn it!” He hung up and tried again. What if Joshua found him before he could connect?!

At last, John’s form took shape from the tiny projectors. “ _This is International Rescue. I’m sorry, but… What the... Alan? Aren’t you supposed to be on a tour, Sprout? Don’t tell me you’re skipping out again! What’s going on?_ ” John questioned, his holographic form looking at his younger brother in confusion and disappointment. His form bobbed up and down a little, letting Alan know that John had turned off the gravity in the space station yet again. Sometimes it was just fun to float, John had told him once.

Taking a deep breath to calm his rattled nerves, Alan closed his eyes for the briefest of moments before speaking. “The North Tower just exploded.”

Holo-John’s eyebrow raised. “ _What? What are you talking about? North Tower? Explosion? You had nothing to do with this, right?_ ”

“What? No!”

“ _Had to make sure. Now, explain._ ”

“There’s probably news coverage of it right now. I don’t know, but there’s a big gaping hole in the upper floors. I don’t know what happened, but you guys need to get out here, if you can.” To his credit, Alan managed to keep the edge from his voice as he spoke to his brother.

“ _Alan, if this is some sort of joke, I swear. I was sleeping..._ ” John’s voice dropped out, and Alan knew immediately he had found what he sought through the information portal. “ _What in the world?_ ”

Alan gulped a little, but otherwise remained calm as his training expected of him. This was no time to panic. “John? Fermat is in the North Tower.”

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/11 – 8:55 a.m. EST/2:55 a.m. HAST _

**Tracy Island**

Jeff Tracy sighed as he flipped another page in the book he was mindlessly reading. Well, attempting to read. He was bothered, but he could not quite put his finger on why. Perhaps it was the meatloaf surprise his mother had made that evening for dinner? Not one of her best dishes, that was for sure, but she had insisted on taking over the kitchen from Onaha for one night while she visited.

Then again, it could even be the call he had gotten earlier that evening from Alan’s Headmaster, congratulating him on his son’s science convention victory. Jeff had not even been aware that his son was entered into any competition. Alan had told him that the conference was something that Fermat had wanted to go to. Why had his youngest son lied?

The thought had bothered him so much that he began looking into more of Alan’s school history, wondering why he never got any announcements. It was then that he discovered a subroutine in the computer preventing things from Wharton’s coming through. Emails, school announcements, and the like. The only thing that came through was direct calls and grade reports.

By the time he discovered all of this and made the corrections, allowing the back-filed files flooding through the filters, it was far too late to contact his son about this outrage. About all the missed school events that Brains always seemed to know about.

When had Alan learned to hack a computer, let alone Jeff’s? As soon as this tropical storm was over, the Tracy patriarch was determined to take Tracy One to the mainland and get a direct answer from his son, even if he had to pull him away from his field trip.

Regardless, he could not sleep and he hated it.

Then again, it could be the severe tropical storm raging outside like a hungry wolf wanting to break in and devour all it could. Yeah, that could be it, combined with everything else. The storm shutters were in place, the buildings were protected from the harsh weather, and the Thunderbirds grounded. There would be no rescues this night, no matter what calls came in.

Tomorrow, hopefully, the recovery would begin and then they could leave for any emergencies. It was far too dangerous for them to go out to clear the bay doors or pool to launch in this storm. They had tried that once, and Thunderbird One had almost ended up crashing into the villa as a huge gust of wind caught it at the wrong angle while taking off. It would take a very extreme rescue for him to even think of attempting such a thing.

Grumbling, he tossed the book to the other side of the bed and turned on the TV to ESPN, trying to catch the highlights of the previous day’s games. He needed to get to sleep, he knew, yet he could not get his eyes to close.

His thoughts drifted again to his youngest child, the one that looked so much like his late wife. Alan had always been a problem child, not quite fitting in with the rest of his brothers. That could be chalked up to the fact that Alan was seven years younger than Gordon, his next brother in age. The age difference between Alan and Scott, his oldest, was almost thirteen years! The difference between the other brothers was a year between Scott [29] and John [28], two between John and Virgil [26], and then three between Virgil and Gordon [23].

Alan truly was the baby of the family at only sixteen. As such, he was constantly trying to prove himself, and more than once his attempts ended in disaster, such as the case of the science building in his last school four years prior. _That_ had been a long day. Just thinking about it made Jeff tense all over again. It did not matter that the memory was downright hilarious in hindsight. How _proud_ Alan had looked after the explosion.

His youngest did, finally, get to prove himself the spring break of his fourteenth year when the Hood had invaded Tracy Island and trapped the rest of the family up in the space station, leaving Alan, Tin-Tin, and Fermat running for their lives.

It was through the actions of the youngest members of the Island that any of them were still alive, though all three of the trio had been almost killed on several occasions, with the Hood taking a personal interest in Alan. Recalling that interest made Jeff sit up in bed and sigh, his stomach queasy at the mere thought of the Hood and what he had almost accomplished. Ever since the encounter with the Hood, Alan had been... odd. More focused, able to do things that Jeff had not thought possible, such as pilot two of the Thunderbirds without any prior training other than his own imaginings.

He remembered being trapped on Thunderbird Five, unable to open the airlock to get to Thunderbird Three and safety. The Hood had so generously decided to leave the security footage running when he had discovered there were unaccounted children on the Island. They had watched the battle take place in the hangers below the surface of the Island up until the point that the trio had been cornered in the silo for Thunderbird One.

_“Poor Alan, the one always left out. The youngest. Useless. The very reason why the Tracy family does not have a matriarch any longer.” The Hood smirked. “Your father would have traded you for her in a heartbeat.”_

_“You’re lying!”_

_“Tut, tut. Have you not noticed how he cast you out? Sent you away from the ones you were meant to call family? I’ll even bet you that he never wanted you to begin with. After all, there is quite a gap between you and your next older brother, is there not? Seven years, if I read the tabloids correctly. You were an accident. A mistake. Unwanted.”_

The Tracy patriarch could not rid himself of the pain he had seen written on his youngest son’s face as he watched helplessly from the station. His rage spreading through his older sons at the man’s words. The heartache on Alan’s face. In his eyes.

Yet, Alan had defied the Hood and gotten them out of there by using some sort of invention – later identified as a skimmer – by hitting an access panel with a rock. For a brief moment, Jeff thought his son had been saved as he disappeared from sight.

_“Get them!”_

_“Transom! Fire up Thunderbird One! And set it to broil!”_

Jeff remembered his heart stopping the moment he thought he witnessed his youngest’s murder as the thrusters of their headlining ship fired into the tubes. How his breath caught in his throat. A silent yell never leaving his mouth. A plea. A cry. Knowledge that his son had died believing that his family never wanted him. He had felt like a broken man until hearing Alan’s voice hours later over the video feed from the satellite.

The relief. The joy.

Until the Hood shattered it once more.

_“Found you, Alan.”_

The Hood had interrupted their communications, leaving that as the final message between father and son until another few hours had passed when power was finally restored to Thunderbird Five. When Brains had awakened them right before they all died in their sleep.

That day, his youngest had almost followed in the footsteps of his mother, who had died ten years prior to the events of the Hood due to an avalanche. His beloved wife had given her life to protect their baby, who had been with her when the avalanche had swept her away. Alan had barely survived that day with the Hood, same with everyone, and just thinking of the incident sent hot tears to his eyes. He could still hear his struggled cries as he gasped for air as the Hood strangled him and threw him against pillars to kill him. Nearly sent him falling into a running Mole after strangling the boy had not worked out as planned.

If not for Tin-Tin…

Pulling out his phone, he called up his buddies at the international high security prison H.O.O.P, just to make sure the Hood was still behind bars. Satisfied with their quick response, he then chose to look up the day’s schedule for Alan while he was on his field trip.

He knew his other sons were sleeping – well, John probably was not – but Alan was in Manhattan on a school field trip, a full six hours ahead of them. For him, it was already morning. From the weather report, it was a beautiful morning.

He soon found that today Alan and Fermat would be spending time at the World Trade Centers. Heh, Alan was probably bored out of his mind! Poor guy. He was not much for looking at buildings, but when it came to things that required physical exertion, such as rock climbing or hiking, he was all for it. Same with space. Alan absolutely loved the stars, just like his elder blond brother and mother. Just like Jefferson Tracy himself. The Astro Dome Observatory the previous night had probably been the highlight of Alan’s whole trip.

It was one reason why Jeff had finally decided that he was going to train Alan to pilot Thunderbird Three. While the world had not yet traveled farther than Mars, or finished setting up colonies on the Moon, there were space shuttles and luxury satellite hotels. One day, Jeff was going to retire from International Rescue as a rescuer, and he wanted his youngest to take over as the family astronaut. Gordon had already made it clear he preferred helping Virgil out in Thunderbird Two and piloting Thunderbird Four, which perfectly suited the aquanaut.

Eventually, Thunderbird Three would be retired. As of right now, in another hanger on a nearby island, a second, much bigger, space rocket was being built with better abilities, grappling arms, and new thrusters. The cockpit was going to be redesigned, making it rotate on an axel so that it always stayed upright while the mighty craft twisted and spun in space. Not only that, but it was having a long drill build into the cone and neck of the craft for latching onto asteroids or other surfaces where normal landings would not be possible.

Since it took quite a while to work on such a large craft, the original Thunderbird was still in service. However, by the time the new one was finished in about another year and brought to Tracy Island, Alan would begin training for space travel, and the new beast would be his to fully command once he graduated from Wharton’s Academy. In fact, Jeff had already designed a simulation for his youngest son with Brains’ help, that would train the future astronaut in the form of a video game. Only a few more kinks needed to be worked out with the controls of the special console, but it would be ready by Winter Break.

Jeff had kept this new rocket a complete secret from all but Brains and a handful of trusted engineers, as he wanted to surprise his youngest son with it as soon as it was complete. All his sons, actually. Scott and Virgil would probably complain about the size of Alan’s Thunderbird – Gordon especially! He did not particularly care. Thunderbird Three had always been the largest, as space travel was incredibly dangerous. Yet, he knew that if any of his sons could handle it, Alan could and would.

He could hardly wait for the revelation. Soon, his son would fly among the stars like he had always dreamed. The smile would not leave the father’s face as he pictured his child’s reaction to such a mighty machine. Especially since Alan was the first person Jeff wanted to ride in the beast with him as he brought her home to the Island.

Though, none of this would happen if he did not get a straight answer out of his son about the subroutine planted on his computer. Okay, it would happen, as Jeff could not bring himself to take this away from his son, but he would do it grudgingly… while enjoying every moment of it.

He could just not stay angry at his youngest, no matter how hard he tried.

Harsh red light followed by the cry of the klaxon startled him out of his musings. Groaning, he sat up in bed and swung his feet over the side, rubbing his face for a moment before pulling on some pants and hurried from his room to the main circular office, where he found Hiram ‘Brains’ Hackenbacker already activating the Command and Control Center.

“Stay up late, too? Was it the meatloaf? Or are you trying to fix Alan’s subroutine in my computer? I thought I told you I fixed that…? At least, I think I did?” Jeff rattled off, looking over at him in surprise. “Did you activate the alarm by accident? I thought I said no more late-night tinkering after last time!”

“N-No. I-I was up wo-working on a few things, i-including the c-co-computer, b-but I d-did not s-sound the alarm,” Brains responded as he placed his hand on the hidden scanner pad. Like Jeff, he knew that John would not activate the emergency alarm while Tracy Island was in such a storm unless something was horribly wrong.

" _Activating Command and Control,_ " a cool feminine voice spoke. The office began to turn, the original desk sliding into the floor as a control panel, one with high tech keyboards, rose out on the opposite side. The sea-view window was covered up by a long panel, and the large picture on the wall disappeared, being replaced by seven portraits, one for each Tracy and each with a different background color. This was the infamous Command and Control Center of International Rescue.

Jeff, having changed into his jumpsuit as a precaution, glanced towards the doorway as this metamorphism took place, watching in great amusement as his exhausted older sons stumbled in with only their boxers on. “Really?” he questioned, laughter in his voice. “Do _none_ of you have pajamas? Fairly certain you each got a pair for Christmas last year from Grandma.”

“Seriously? It’s three in the morning! And we live on a tropical island, Dad. No one wears pajamas. _Especially_ when there’s a humid tropical storm going on!” Gordon complained unhappily and he reached into his portrait tube and grabbed his jumpsuit, his brothers doing the same. The office was rather chilly to counteract the humidity, so getting dressed into the rescue suits was the next best course of action.

Virgil was just as grumpy as his younger brother as he finished zipping up the white uniform trimmed with green. “Tell me about it. Hasn’t the world heard of sleep? We’re in the middle of a tropical storm! What is John thinking? We’re all grounded because everything’s blocked! I thought he put out the automatic response?”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut it. We knew we’d be up at random times for years, and yet you always complain! Why?!”

“Because it’s fun to annoy you,” the younger two responded with a laugh, much to his annoyance.

Jeff shook his head and looked towards the portraits as John’s eyes lit up and his holographic form took shape in front of them. “John?” He frowned, noticing that John did not seem quite like his serious self, but more troubled. Brow knitting in fatherly worry, he tried again to gain his second oldest son’s attention. “John? What’s going on? You know we cannot leave the island during a tropical storm.”

The blond almost seemed startled and distracted, increasing the worry that the single father felt. " _You may have to figure it out. There’s been an incident in southern Manhattan. Specifically, the World Trade Centers._ " John's voice was neutral as he spoke, and his form was stiff as he locked holo-eyes with his father. “ _We haven’t been requested yet, but…_ ”

Gordon smacked his forehead. "What did the Sprout do this time? That’s where he was going today, right?" he asked, looking at Brains, who nodded in response. “Did he blow something up? He has a knack for that, after all.” The others all gave small nods of agreement.

John, however, shook his head. “ _Alan did nothing this time. Reports are jumbled and confused, but from what I can see, a plane has crashed into the North Twin Tower. It’s all over the news._ ”

Scott’s eyes widened as he switched on the TV, barely listening to the anchors as they spoke, but instead had his eyes glued to the picture on the television of the burning building. A few of the video clips showed a large passenger plane flying right into the side of the building. Hundreds of lives taken within an instant.

Each Tracy was sucked into the confusing reports, rooted to their spots as they knew they could not deploy until International Rescue was requested, as per the conditions set forth by the United Nations unless it was in international waters or space. There was also the storm to consider.

“How… is that possible?” Gordon asked softly, staring at the screen.

Minutes passed by in a flash as the family watched the news footage unfold in utter astonishment. Papers flooded the air, a few people were jumping from the white-hot flames to their deaths. It was better to jump to one’s death instead of being burned alive, it would seem.

Jeff tried a few times to form the words to describe what he was seeing, but nothing was quite right. The only thing that pulled any of them away from the screen was John’s voice once more.

“ _Sorry, Alan, I finally cleared the airways enough to get your signal through to home. The airwaves are crammed packed with panic and people trying to reach for us,_ ” John stated as a not-quite formed, school uniform clad, holo-Alan appeared from his portrait’s projectors.

Jeff’s head, followed swiftly by his island-bound sons, snapped to the sight of the youngest Tracy and the panicked voices they could hear coming through the feed. “Alan!” His voice was joined by his sons as they tried to find out if their little Sprout was okay.

“ _I’m okay. I’m in the South Tower on the 77 th, but..._” He paused a moment as his holo-form fizzled. “ _Fermat was in the North Tower. From the last text I got from him, he was on the tenth floor. I can’t get ahold of him, though._ ”

Brains’ eyes widened at this news, and he collapsed into his chair with relief that Fermat was probably already evacuated from the building and just could not respond due to the chaos. His son... his only living family, was more than likely alive. “I’ll try to raise him on the wristcomm.”

“ _Good luck with that. I barely got Alan through. The airwaves are simply horrible,_ ” John muttered, shaking his head. “ _Heck, I’m hardly keeping Alan on the line._ ”

“Alan,” Jeff began, “try to get everyone to evacuate the building. No one should be in either tower. Where’s your school group? You kids get out of there _now_.”

He averted his eyes for a moment. “ _Yeah, about that… They’re about seven? Eight floors up?_ ” He winced slightly, trying to give an innocent grin but failed miserably.

“ _Did you seriously ditch them again, Alan?!_ ” John asked in annoyance. “ _What did I tell you about that?! Especially now!_ ”

Alan raised his hand. “ _Whoa, whoa, I had a perfectly legit reason for that this time, John. Totally punched the tour guide._ ”

“ _YOU DID WHAT?!_ ”

“ALAN SHEPARD TRACY!”

“ _I have a legit reason for that! See, the tour guide decided she rather…_ ” His widening eyes shifted upwards. The teenager cut out of the picture suddenly, which began shaking, as if Alan were moving. Panicked screams filled the air.

“Rather what?” Jeff questioned, glancing at the clock. 3:03 a.m., their time. It would be 9:03 a.m. where Alan was at. “Alan, what are you talking about? You better answer me, boy!”

“What are you doing, first off, and what’s that noise?” Gordon interrupted as a dull roar became a mighty shriek.

“ _GET DOWN!_ _OH, F-_ ” Alan shrieked before his line cut out with a mighty explosion.

Voices from the television rose up in a shocked yell. " _Holy shit! Did you see that?! Another plane has just crashed into the South Tower! Oh my God!"_ Another voice screamed in the background, " _This is terrorism! It has to be!_ "

Video feed of a second plane hitting the South Tower appeared on the screen, caught by a shaking camera. The explosion blast, the shriek of metal, the roar of the engines, all caught on visual audio for the world to see.

Jeff, feeling his knees go weak, grabbed for the desk, not quite believing what he was witnessing. Another plane... Right into the side of the building his baby was in. His heart pounded loudly against his chest, and he began to find it hard to breathe. Prickles ran up and down his arms as he tried to gain some sense of what had just happened. This could not be happening.

His sons were in much the same way, either standing in shock or swaying slightly. Slowly, distress and panic overcame their dazed faces. Fury. Terror. Confusion. Pain.

Had they really just seen what they had? A distinct act of terrorism in this day and age? An era of peace shattered in minutes. The world as they knew it coming to an end in a matter of minutes. Hundreds of lives taken in seconds. And Alan…

Had they just witnessed the youngest Tracy’s death?

“Did…” Scott began, hating the way his body trembled. It was one thing to be on a rescue and witness such events. It was another for such events to happen to _his_ family. Not again.

“Dad…?” Gordon whispered, unable to tear his eyes from the screen. It could not be possible. Not after Lucille Tracy’s death. Not after the Hood’s invasion.

“Alan…” Virgil murmured, clenching his eyes shut. He could only imagine what his youngest brother looked like, if there was anything left of him.

Brains sat in his chair, dumbfounded and speechless. There were no words he could say to offer comfort. Running a trace, he relaxed slightly upon finding a signal for Alan’s watch. Then again, the watch was fairly indestructible. Unless Alan contacted or answered them, they would not know if he was alive.

John took a deep, shuddering breath and turned his holo-self towards his family. “ _International Rescue, the call just came in. Thunderbirds are go._ ”

Jeff nodded, gathering himself back up. This was no time to stand like a fool. They had a job to do. A son and brother to save. Many other lives as well. Looking straight at John, he spoke the familiar callsign. “F.A.B.”


	2. A Moment Too Late

_ 9/11 – 9:03 a.m. EST   _

**Courtyard Between the Towers**

The roar of an explosion brought Fermat almost back to his senses as he began to stir. He could hear faint screams, a voice trying to speak to him, and the smell of thick smoke. He tried to ignore it though, his body beckoning to sleep. His head pounded, and his father always said that when he got a headache to take a nap. Using the explanation that it was just his brain thinking in overdrive.

"Kid! Hey, kid! Can you hear me?"

Awareness slowly filled him as his hazel eyes shifted toward the voice, but the shriek of sirens suddenly distracted his clearing vision. The sound almost overwhelmed him.

“Kid!” the voice penetrated again.

Identifying the voice as male, Fermat took note of the worry it held. Groaning a moment, he blinked again as he focused on the mustached face covered in dirt and grime. “W-Where am I?” he questioned, turning his head slightly as he studied the strange but hazy world he found himself in. There seemed to be a dusting in the air, and people walked by, covered in ash? The air seemed tinged with yellow. He did not understand. Where was he?

“Outside the Towers, kid. We got you from the tenth floor in the North Tower,” the man smiled in a friendly way. As Fermat stared at him a bit more, he assumed the man was a firefighter by his bulky black coat. “You hit your head pretty hard, kiddo. Can you remember anything? What’s your name?”

He nodded, flinching at the movement. Reaching up, he felt the bandages that had been wrapped around him. "F-Fermat H-Hackenb-backer. I'm f-from W-Wharton A-Academy in M-Massachusetts." Looking past his grimy savior, the teen nearly gasped at the scene around him. People were running in panic and intense fear. What caught his wide eyes was the random papers fluttering down around him. Thousands of paper stock showering upon them like confetti. What was going on? He finally noticed his teacher and fellow classmates standing a few feet from him, worry etched upon their faces on his current physical state. Right then his heart dropped in his stomach. One very important face was missing. No, Alan’s _entire_ group wasn’t there! “W-Where’s Alan?!” ~~~~

"Alan? Who's he? Was he with you?" the man asked. Studying him again, Fermat realized he was not a firefighter by a paramedic. “This is the group you came down with. Was someone missed?”

Mr. Maus spoke up. “Our other group was in the South Tower. Upper floors.”

The paramedic took on a pained expression for a second. “I see.” He raised his head back up to the Towers for a moment before pulling out his radio. “Command, be advised. A group of students are in the South Tower. Ages appear to be high schoolers.”

"Tell them Alan T-Tr-Tracy!" the teenager squeaked out, hoping this would get a quicker response.

The man’s eyes widened considerably. “Alan Tracy? Tracy as in _Jeff_ Tracy?”

Fermat paid him no attention other than giving a nod of confirmation. Where was Alan? Grabbing out his phone, he looked at the text messages he had missed.

_8:15 – I’m so bored, Ferm. Can’t wait for lunch._

_8:30 – Would you believe Joshua is being nice to me? Go figure!_

_8:33 – Hey._

_8:34 – Hey!_

_8:35 – FERMAT!_

_8:36 – Did you silence your phone? Totally rude, man._

_8:38 – Joshua’s on his way back. We’ll be heading back up to 85 soon enough – I’ll explain everything later. Talk to you later, Ferm._

Dread began to fill him as he dialed Alan’s frequency number, waiting for an answer. When none came but the voicemail, frustration wrote itself across his face. Listening to those around him, he could hear that they were having similar issues. No one from the South Tower group was answering their phones.

His vision swam slightly as he tried to regain his composure. It was starting to get hard to breathe. Reaching into his pocket immediately, he pulled out his inhaler and took a few puffs, trying to steady his breathing. He was aware of the man preparing an oxygen mask, but he waved him off. He could see there were hurt people all around them, and a little asthma attack was not as important. Not in this situation.

His gaze slowly drifted back up to the smoking buildings, questions written across his face.

“A couple of planes.”

Fermat glanced over at his teacher, noting the fear in his eyes. Mr. Maus? Afraid? “What?” he asked, confused.

“Two planes… One hit the North Tower. When it hit, that’s when you fell and bonked your noggin. A couple minutes ago, the second plane… hit the South. Upper floors.”

Fermat's face paled. "What?" he whispered in denial as he looked up at the Towers yet again. The smoke billowing from the Towers was shocking. It was like the erupting volcano from one of the Thunderbird missions a few years back that he and Alan had anxiously watched from the television at school.

Picking up his phone, he dialed the frequency again. Hoping. Praying. Alan had to answer! He had to! Yet, once again, all he received was the sound of the voicemail his friend had set up.

“I repeat, there are high school students trapped in the South Tower upper floors. One student is Alan Tracy,” the paramedic spoke into his radio again.

Fermat knew why the man had said Alan’s name – so that the rescuers could find him easier by calling his name. Oh, how he wanted to get off this ground and go help out!

“Relax, kid. If we don’t get your classmates out, International Rescue will. From what I know, they’ve been called in. If they weren’t on their way already.”

Weak relief filled him. The Tracys would be there soon! Even if there was a tropical storm back home, they would find some way to get to them! They would find Alan – not even Hell itself could stop them from finding the young blond.

Speaking of International Rescue, he should let his father know that he was okay. He was more than likely awake, given that the Thunderbirds were launching. Should he call? Should he text?

“We have to leave. There’s nothing we can do for them here other than stand in the way,” Mr. Maus spoke up, gathering Fermat into his arms after clearing him with the paramedic. Fermat found this a bit indignant, but did not fight back.

“Hey, we can’t just leave them!” one of the other boys, Edward, objected loudly. The others quickly voiced their opinions on the subject.

“Listen to me!” Mr. Maus spoke tersely. “I don’t want to leave them either, but we have no choice. We are in the way here and we need to get to a safe location so that I can contact the school. You can then call your families to let them know that you are safe.”

The teens dejectedly looked at their teacher. Sighing, Mr. Maus softened his gaze at the scared students. “Look, we’ll walk for a bit but stay close. If we’ve not heard from them in fifteen minutes, we’re going to start working our way back to the hotel. Is that understood?” He glanced over in the direction of a reporter, annoyance filling him. “Besides, we’re not here to be bothered by the media. Let’s go.”

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/11 – 9:17 a.m. EST _

**Thunderbird Five**

John couldn’t believe what was happening in lower Manhattan. An attack on the Trade Centers? Who would do that? Why? It could not have been a malfunction. There was no possible way for two malfunctions to happen to two different planes and lead them to the same place. But why? This was not a time of war, this had been a time of world peace! However, there was no denying the obvious. This was the work of human hands.

It just had to be, given that a plane had just crashed into the Pentagon as well just seconds ago.

How could this be happening? Why today of all days, when his baby brother was visiting the tall skyscrapers? Were they not just having a normal conversation the previous night? Now Alan could very well be dead. It could have been his last conversation with his brother…

To his left, several news stations were playing on various screens as he watched different perspectives. To his right were his other computers as he tried to raise Alan again, hoping beyond hope that his baby brother was still alive.

“ _This just in. A group of ten students from a school in Massachusetts were visiting the Trade Centers this morning. Each of the students a son of a world leader in business. Among them were the sons of the world-famous engineer Hiram Hackenbacker and former astronaut Jeff Tracy. The students from the North Tower have been evacuated, but the remaining five students in the South Tower are unknown, though sources say they were on the upper floors._ ”

John’s heart dropped as their worst fear was realized. Alan’s group was still up there, and now it was going to be a big story that the youngest son of Jeff Tracy was in the attacks. Great. Were they alive? Watching the monitor the story was coming from, he was relieved to see a picture of a bandaged Fermat being carried away by what appeared to be a teacher. Good. At least Fermat was safe for sure. Alan had been correct in how low down the young Hackenbacker was.

" _Every attempt to get to those still trapped in the South Tower is underway as people on the ground pray for the lives of loved ones still trapped in either building. An emergency call has gone out to International Rescue, asking for their aid in wake of this disaster. We are told they were in maintenance mode and shut down for a few days, but are responding to this unprecedented disaster with upmost haste. We can only hope that it will be enough. This is Laura Maluway, signing off from Ground Zero._ "

The blond Tracy sighed and flicked on the switch back to Tracy Island. “Brains? How are the preparations coming along? Have they cleared the bay doors yet?” He could only hope that things were going quickly. Those people in the buildings… _Alan_ … needed them.

“ _Thu-Thunderbird One w-will be ready to la-launch soon. The pool is clear of de-de-debr... garbage. Scott and Gordon are now hea-hea... going over to help with the bay doors of Thu-Thunderbird Two,_ ” Brains responded.

The blond breathed a sigh of relief at that. He knew it was killing Scott to not take off already, but Thunderbird One would not be much help at the moment. Especially when Scott was needed to help clean the bay doors. This was a job for the green bug and her special modifications. Only when Thunderbird Two launched would Scott follow with the other, faster craft. “I saw Fermat on the television, Brains. He’s out of the tower and being evacuated to safety,” John spoke, smiling at the inventor’s holo-form as the engineer cheered up. “How are the boys liking being out in that storm? I don’t envy them one bit.”

“ _We’re hating this!_ ” Gordon complained through the link, his holo-form appearing on the space station with much static. “ _This rain sucks!_ ”

“Huh. Fish-Feet is complaining about getting wet? Uncanny,” John mused dryly. “Alan would have a field day with that one.” A pained expression crossed his face. Would he ever get to tell his baby brother about this?

“ _Seriously, John? I’d like to see you_ not _complain about being buffeted by a storm like this!_ ”

“Regardless, you need to launch soon. I’ve informed the President of our situation, and he begs you to hurry. All of you. Local rescue efforts have already been sent up, but the word seems to be that the floors above impact are inaccessible. They’re hoping we can get to them and get those people to safety.”

“ _John, have you raised Alan yet?_ ” Scott’s voice rang out as his holo-form appeared.

“Not yet. I’m getting a signal from him. From what I see, he’s gone through a couple floors,” the second-oldest responded honestly. “No audio or visual, though. I don’t know if it’s just a bad signal, or...”

“ _Keep trying,_ ” Jeff spoke up, voice firm. “ _We’re almost clear here. Shouldn’t be much longer, I would hope. If this wind doesn’t let up, though… Well, small favors for having the Thunderizer._ ”

“F.A.B.” John clicked the link off until he was contacted by them again. Turning back to the console he was using to try and raise Alan, he frowned. There was nothing that could stop the older sibling from finding his younger counterpart. Alan had to be alive. They could not take such a loss.

Not again.

If his father was too late to save another Tracy, John knew it would destroy him.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/11 – 9:20 a.m. EST _

**South Tower, 75 th Floor**

There was a shrill ringing in his ears. Smoke in the air carried by a breeze. Coppery blood in his mouth. Burning flesh. These were the things that greeted Alan as he began to stir from a world of darkness to one almost equal in sight. Almost muted fire alarms blared all around him, their flashing bright lights adding to the headache that was forming.

What was going on? The youngest Tracy could not put his finger on it, but something was not right about this. Had he gone on a mission with his father and brothers? No… No, that was not it. He had not been home since July, so there was no way he was on a mission. Even then, he was never part of the physical mission.

He was usually co-piloting with one of them, not doing the rescue work unless it was absolutely necessary. Sure, he was in training and had been since his fifteenth birthday – a few days after the Hood incident – but that did not stop his family from being paranoid wombats. Always babying him. If only they realized he had not needed their worry for quite a while. Not since he had found his more daring side while racing.

He lifted his head, slowly looking around the smoky room. Was that… a hole in the ceiling? Bits of burning concrete and twisted steel rods hung above him like a thing above a crib. A mobile? Yeah. The thought was strangely… odd. Why would it be on fire? And why was there a gap in the wall showing him the outside world? It was not a window, that much he could tell, but a gaping hole!

People around him were panicking. He could see it on their ash covered faces as they lay there, trapped beneath debris. Terror. Pain. Tears. Dead eyes. Blank and lifeless. What had happened? Then like a flood he remembered. They were visiting the World Trade Centers today. The last tangible memory was a plane flying right at them… Wait. Them? Joshua? Where was Joshua?

As if like an angel, the older teenager was there, face hovering over him. Mouth open in a shout. His hand was on Alan’s shoulders, giving him a few nudges. Shakes. A light slap to the face. Another. More silent words. Why would that ringing not go away?

Agony shot through his left leg and ribs as he attempted to sit up. Joshua was still talking to him, but the blond could not understand him. The ringing was far too loud, overloading his senses. The splitting headache was not helping matters much either.

Pain surged through him as sudden pressure was released from his body. He realized for a fleeting moment that he was screaming, but it seemed distant. As if it were someone else.

Joshua gripped him by one of his arms while holding one of his own to his chest, pulling him out of the way of the crowds of feet charging through from a group of freed people. People who had remained behind to help who they could. People who were abandoning others.

Propping him up against a hanging slab of concrete that reached from floor to ceiling, the older body gave him another slap across the face, trying to bring him out of his dazed state.

Groaning, Alan blinked a few times. Adjusting his vision to the burning air that stung his eyes, he attempted to shift positions again. This proved to be a mistake as a tweak of pain shot through him. “Joshua…? What… What are you doing here…? Where’s Dad...?” he moaned softly, wondering if his family were still on the other end of the line. He had been talking to them, right?

He briefly registered his enemy pressing a dirty cloth to his head, pressing down on a wound of some kind. He could see that Joshua was trying to talk to him again, but the words sounded so faint. So far away.

Lifting his arm, he brought his wrist up to his lap and let it rest. Coughs raked his body as he struggled to breathe in the rancid air. “John... Gotta… call… John…” He moved his other hand, lifting the watch up to eye level and pressing a button to start the retinal scan. He could sense that Joshua was confused by the small blue laser leaving an old-looking watch. Normally, he would have laughed at the shocked reaction, but right now he could not bring himself to do so.

Dropping his arms back to his lap, he wheezed a bit. The harsh air condition was making it harder to breathe. Had he cracked his ribs? Is that why he ached so much? Had to be. The Hood had hurt him in a similar way at the bank when he had thrown him. It felt about the same, but a bit less. Perhaps just bruised. Hopefully. He was not looking forward to spending days in the infirmary again under Virgil’s watch.

“John…” he mumbled, exhaustion wanting to claim him. Another slap by Joshua stirred him back to reality. The ringing was lessening enough that he could hear the older student ask what the heck was going on with his watch.

Lifting his head again, ignoring Joshua’s protests, he stared down at the device. A weak smile crossed his features as his older blond brother’s holo-form took shape. “John…” He wanted to grab for his earpiece, but could not find the energy to do so. John would have to just speak through the small, but powerful, speakers.

“ _ALAN! Thank goodness! Sprout, we thought we lost you!_ ” John responded, a forced calmness on his face but his blue eyes spoke volumes. The cerulean orbs reflected worry and fear. No, it was terror. So unlike his normally stoic older brother.

“Yeah… I guess…” the younger blond whispered, almost laughing at Joshua’s confused mumble of ‘what the f-’. Shifting positions again, he hissed, clenching his teeth tightly.

“Easy, Tracy. You’re pretty banged up. You there, pretty boy holo-figure wassit. I don’t know who you are, but…” Joshua began.

“Brother,” Alan supplied helpfully.

“Okay, then, big brother person, I don’t know how good you are to us, so I’m going to, uh, end this call. Thunderturd here can talk to you when we get out of here.”

“No… No, don’t…” Alan began, but John cut him off.

“ _I don’t know who you are, but if you shut off this connection, you will be in trouble,_ ” John warned. “ _Did you just call my brother a-_ ”

“What help are _you_ to this situation?” the brown-haired boy questioned, eyes rolling.

“He’s International Rescue,” the younger responded, making a mental note to apologize to his father later about spilling the secret. “So, a lot of help, a-actually.”

Joshua blinked, visibly startled. “You’re shitting me.”

“You’re D-Diaper Boy for a reason,” Alan counteracted.

Joshua’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, you are _so_ getting your ass kicked later, Tracy, you little prick. This is the last time I come save your ungrateful butt!”

John rolled his eyes in annoyance. “ _Oh, break up the love fest. Alan, you’re hurt? Where? You, other kid. What’s your name?_ ”

“Joshua. I pulled him out from under some rubble.”

“ _Joshua, then. Thank you for your help. Can you tell me his injuries? Alan, I’m patching you through to Virgil._ ”

“F.A.B.,” Alan mumbled.

The eighteen-year-old frowned. “Another brother? What, is your entire family… No effing way.” He stared at him.

“Ah… Yes… Yeah… Congrats, you know… the family secret…” He gave a weak laugh. “Oh, this day… officially sucks.”

“You got that right, Thunderboy.” At Alan’s raised eyebrow, Joshua snorted and coughed, lifting his shirt to cover his mouth at the thickening smoke. “I’m not going to get in trouble with your brothers by calling you a turd. Nope. Need them to rescue me.”

Alan smirked a bit at that answer. Regardless of what Joshua called him, he would be rescued by the Thunderbirds. He flicked his eyes downward again, watching as his medic of a brother appeared. “Virge… Hey. I went for a… ride and, uh… got myself hurt.”

“ _You have no idea how glad I am to hear your voice, kiddo. Joshua, is it? Tell me his injuries. Yours too, if you are hurt,_ ” Virgil stated immediately, getting down to business.

“Well, sir, it looks like his ribs might be busted. What are you shaking your head at me for?”

“Not… busted,” Alan corrected. “Bruised. I’ve… had broken… ribs before…”

Joshua raised an eyebrow. “Okay, I’ve _never_ broken your ribs before. Dislocated your shoulder, yes, but not your ribs. How the hell would you know? Other guys beating you up when I’m not around. I’m hurt.”

“ _WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!_ ”

Alan waved his brother off. This was no time for such things. “It was… never mind. Virg, they… are bruised…”

The other teenager gulped as he looked at the holo-vid at the very angry older brother. “Anyway, uh, his leg is for sure. Had a desk fall on him. Man, coach is going to be so pissed that his star runner is out right before finals. Though, given the situation, I’m sure he’ll understand. Head injury, but it seems to have stopped bleeding now, but he was out for a while before I got down here from 77,” Joshua rattled off. “My arm’s broken, and I think my ankle’s a bit screwed up, but I can walk. I’m about to take him to the stairs.”

“ _You need to stabilize him, first! Wait for paramedics!_ ”

Alan almost laughed at his middle brother’s response. “I just… want to get out of here… Lots of smoke, and there’s a b-big ho-le in the c-ceiling and w-wall. I can see… Tracy Tower…” Indeed, through the smoke, he could just catch a glimpse of his father’s business headquarters. How nice it would be to stay in the penthouse or play in the hot tub. Coughs raked him again, sending spikes of pain throughout his entire nervous system at which he shut his eyes tightly, losing sight of the familiarity. “What happened, anyway?” Opening his eyes, he found the building once more hidden by smoke.

“ _You got hit by a plane, Sprout. Your locater puts you on the 75 th floor. Looks like you fell through a few floors. I’m just glad that you’re still alive after that,_” John spoke up. “ _For once I’m glad you ditched your school group. Even if you’re stuck with present company._ ”

The youngest Tracy turned his head at the flinch Joshua gave. He knew why the older teenager had given such a response, other than what John had said – the rest of their group was more than likely gone. Joshua’s best friend Eric Santee and Alan’s mentor and friend Mr. Swan. Alan did not know the other boys as much, as they were tormentors instead of friendlies. He never cared to know them. Now he wondered if they were dead. If their families had any idea they were gone.

“We’re not staying here. We stay here, we die. I’m not waiting around to be rescued any longer. We’re cut off from the upper floors thanks to that plane, and some of this floor is trashed, too. But people are getting down the stairs. Tracy, consider this your scheduled ass-kicking of the day. Upsy-daisy. This is going to hurt like a bitch!”

Alan could not hold back the stream of colorful words as Joshua forced him up on his injured leg, while wrapping an arm around his aching ribs. He swung Alan’s arm up over his shoulders and began walking. He could hear Virgil and John arguing with his rescuer, but at this point he could care less. He wanted to wait. Wait for his family. Wait for rescue. Yet, he knew that Joshua would leave him otherwise, and he did not want to be left alone.

“Oh, shut the hell up! You guys aren’t here, but I am. I’m not about to let this little pain in the ass die. I don’t care if you’re a doctor! I’m the star athlete at the school! Who gives a crap?! We’re getting the hell out of here!” Joshua argued. It was amusing though, watching the two holo-forms argue with the older teenager.

“ _Go back and wait for proper rescue! You will just injure him and yourself further!_ ” Virgil ordered.

“ _International Rescue will be on their way soon! You boys will just have to wait unless picked up by paramedics,_ ” John stated.

“Listen! Fine, I’ll leave him and go by myself. I’m _not_ staying up here! I’ll just leave him and you can hope that you find him alive and not smashed by falling debris. How about that? Hm?”

Alan was startled at the tone the older student was using. Not many who spoke to his brothers that way got away with it.

“ _…Get him out of there, then._ ”

He could hear the frustration in Virgil’s voice, understanding it completely. He was grateful, however, for his brother’s answer.

“Hey, we’re getting out of here together,” Joshua stated, turning his head to regard him and ignore the other two. “When we’re done with this, want to head to the nearest race track and blow off some steam?”

“Would love to,” Alan hissed through gritted teeth, “but as I have a broken leg, you’d have an unfair advantage.”

“Yeah, well, I got a broken arm, so we’re both screwed. Fine, then. I’ll sneak us a beer or two. How about that? Or are you too much of a goody two shoes?”

Alan chuckled. He might just have to take up the guy on that offer.

“ _NO BEER!_ ”

“ _You can watch us have a beer, but you aren’t having one, Sprout._ ”

The young Tracy nearly jumped out of his skin, having forgotten that he was still connected to his elder brothers. “I would never, John…Virgil. You know that.”

“ _You better not. You are far too underage!_ ” John retorted.

“Yeesh! I thought you said he was your brother!” Joshua snorted. “Sounds more like a father to me!” He coughed a bit more, but the smoke was lessening the closer they got to the stairwell door.

“Well, he is tw-twelve years older…” Alan mused.

“Huh. No shit.”

“Watch your mouth.”

Joshua looked at him incredulously. “Did you _seriously_ just say that? After all the curses you shouted when I picked you up?!”

“Force of ha-habit. Dad gets onto us about th-that sort of thing.” Alan grimaced, broken leg buckling under the weight and pain. He drew in a sharp breath, clenching his eyes shut.

“ _Listen, just wait for rescue paramedics! Don’t try to be a hero!_ ” Virgil warned, changing his mind about his earlier statement.

“Too bad for you.” He shook his head, struggling slightly against the dead weight. “Here, hold on.” Joshua adjusted him until he was giving the injured student a piggy back ride. “Glad you’re a scrawny toothpick,” he hissed, holding one of his arms in a protective way around Alan’s good leg, and carefully shifted his own broken arm under the injured limb, doing his best to ignore the pain. “Oi! Move it so we can get out! I got a kid!” He glanced back at him. “Don’t even argue with that. You’re a punk-ass, sixteen-year-old, thorn in my side.”

“ _I am ordering you to-_ ”

“You can thank me for getting him out later.”

Alan simply leaned his head against his former enemy’s shoulder as he rested on his back, trying his best not to rattle his ribs. He normally would not have been caught dead in such a position, but right now he was picking his battles. “You should… listen to him. He’s a doctor.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t give a crap right now. I am not staying up here any longer than I have to. Shouldn’t they be here by now?”

“Storm…” Alan murmured, eyes shifting close.

“Hey, hey. Wakey-wakey. Don’t you be going to sleep on me. I don’t swing that way.”

His eyes shot open. “I’ve dealt with enough sexual harassment today, thank you very much!”

“ _What did you just say, Alan?_ ”

Joshua ignored the voice. Honestly, it was as if the Tracy family understood nothing about how the real world worked. “Yeah, I know. Poor joke. It woke you up, though. At least that jerk is probably…” He shook his head and pushed into the crowd.

Relief flooded his senses as they finally made it into the chaos of the staircase with the rest of the escaping office workers. “Talk to you as soon as we’re out, John… Virgil… tell Dad to hurry…” he said, switching the link off before they could protest further. They would be fine now. All they had to do was climb down seventy-five flights of stairs. Joy.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/11 – 9:48 a.m. EST / 3:48 HAST _

**Thunderbird Two**

Jeff, Virgil, and Gordon sat in the cockpit of Thunderbird Two as the bay doors began to open at last to the lightning-filled world. They had loaded the necessary equipment into the cargo hold, hoping that it would be enough for whatever they might encounter. It had taken an agonizing amount of time to get the bay doors cleared in this nasty weather, but _finally_ , they were free to launch the Thunderbirds. Provided the wind would calm down enough for them to do so. Having Thunderbird One almost crash once was not something they wanted repeated.

Pounding rain swept over the sleek green paint of the massive Thunderbird as lightning struck the ocean before them. Its electrified flashes illuminating the silent figures within the mighty craft as it wheeled out of the bay and down the path to the launch point.

“We are a go for takeoff,” Virgil spoke up, checking the instruments. Normally, he would be the one piloting Thunderbird Two, but he was not about to argue with his father on the subject. He could see the Tracy patriarch was already tense, just like he was. Apprehension coursed through him about this mission. Something was not right. Planes flying into buildings was something that did not just happen! Onboard computers should have prevented such things! Security! Pilots! What was going on? A news anchor claimed terrorism, but could that be true?

“F.A.B,” Jeff responded, pushing the throttle to power up the thrusters, relishing in the rumble of the engines that roared to full life. With a slight jolt, the mighty green Thunderbird took to the skies. “Thunderbird Two, taking off.”

“ _Roger, T-Thunderbird Two,_ ” Brains responded, wishing them a mission success and hopes for Alan and the other students’ survival.

“ _Thunderbird Two, this is Thunderbird One. I am en route. ETA is one hour, thanks to this weather,_ ” Scott spoke from his place inside the cockpit of the mighty rocket on the other side of the Island. “ _Once I get out of the storm, it should be better going, but I am going to take it slow over the mainland. No need to start a panic given what’s happened._ ”

Jeff nodded, looking at the holo-form of his eldest. Clicking a few keys, he contacted John. “Any further report?” He had been standing next to Virgil when Alan had been patched through and had heard the entire conversation. The patriarch had desperately wanted to comfort his injured youngest, and admittedly deep down wanted to throttle Alan’s would-be savior for causing him further pain. It was clear the same could be said of his other sons, who John had forced silent by muting their coms.

John’s holo-form took shape next to Scott’s. “ _They’re making their way down the stairs now. I’m tracking them at floor 58 now. Not bad, given the condition they’re in._ ”

“Betcha Alan’s feeling the pain now,” Gordon muttered in annoyance.

“Shut it, Gordon,” Virgil snapped, fuming at what Joshua had done in moving Alan. They had no idea how badly broken his leg was, and the other teenager was simply making it worse.

Maybe the reason why he had not been able to sleep had been a bad feeling in his gut. That same feeling that was still eating him up inside – torturing him. Just a little bit ago, John had informed them of another plane crash, this time into the Pentagon. Local authorities were handling that case, leaving the Twin Towers to them, thankfully.

Already, Jeff knew that firefighters, police officers, paramedics, and other rescue workers were going up the Towers, hoping to put out the fire and save who they could. It would be a simple enough rescue. The upper floors above the crashes had been cut off, so that was where the primary rescue of International Rescue would be focused. The lower floors would be evacuated. Everyone would get out. It was just another tower fire, something that they had dealt with before.

Of course, they had never dealt with two towering infernos side by side.

“ _Shouldn’t take too terribly long now. They seem to be making fairly good time. Oh, wait, they’ve stopped…_ ”

“Stopped?” Virgil asked, confused. “Are they stopping to rest?”

“ _Looks like they are getting on an elevator. Alan just messaged saying they were on a cargo elevator being used by firefighters fetching supplies. He’ll be out of there in no time!_ ”

Jeff let himself relax a bit. His son would be safe soon enough. Yet… why would that dark feeling not go away? Why could he not settle?

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/11 – 9:55 a.m. EST _

**South Tower**

“You boys look like hell. Broken leg? Come with me.”

Joshua and Alan both looked confused as they were pulled out of the stairwell by a firefighter. “Shouldn’t we keep going, sir?” Joshua questioned.

“You will,” the firefighter responded. “Just thought you might have an easier time taking an elevator. We just happen to be sending one down for supplies and more crewmen. You’re the only two I’ve seen that need a lift so far. Anyone else with your injuries has already been sent down. I’d say wait for the paramedics, but you seem to have things handled for now.”

Joshua grinned and nodded. “Thank you.” Carrying Alan into the elevator, he lowered him to the floor of the lift and relaxed a bit as the machine began moving downwards. “Wow, this is awesome. Better message your brother quick. Fermat, too.”

Alan nodded, typing out a message stating what was going on before the signal was lost. Had it even made it through? Hopefully.

“We’re almost to the bottom! We’re on the fortieth floor already!” Joshua cheered, a few minutes later as he closed his eyes while he slid to the floor beside him. “This is awesome. Sure, it’s a bit slow, but we’re going to be fine.”

“Tell me about it. I’m glad to just get out of this mess. I’m going to get an earful from my brothers for being involved in another explosion.”

The older teenager snorted. “That _was_ you that blew up that science lab all those years back, if I recall. Got you expelled and transferred, didn’t it?”

“Yeah. It’s not fun to think about. Got an earful from all of them, and they still won’t let me live it down. Of course, they keep laughing about it too.” Alan chuckled a bit, wincing at the displeasure his ribs gave him. “It _was_ fairly funny.” He found it so much easier to talk now that they were in a better location with no smoke and no jarring to his ribs.

“If I recall, the Thunderbirds responded to that particular explosion… Wonder what they thought when they found out it was _you_ that caused it?”

Alan smiled wryly, thinking back. “You should have seen it. Dad was trying so hard to scold me and once he overca-came the shock, he did give me a good talking to. Man, but Gordon, Sc-Scott, and Virgil…they couldn’t handle it. They had to go back to ‘Two to hide their laughter.”

“Huh,” Joshua stated as he leaned his head back. “Guess this answers why your family never comes to school events.”

Alan closed his eyes for a moment. “Yeah…” he responded softly. “It’s fine, though. Rescuing others is more important. So, before I forget – thank you.”

“Hmph. I still hate you. But you aren’t half bad.” Joshua glanced at him a moment before he checked his bleeding arm. “So now that we’re almost out of here, I’m glad those people let us get on the elevator up there. It was a bumpy ride, but we made it, Tracy! We made it! We’re going to get out of this! Despite what your brother might say, I’m going to figure out how to get that beer. We deserve one. You’ve been made into a man today, and not in the fun way.”

The blond raised an eyebrow, but nodded in agreement. It was amazing that they had been able to get so far down so quickly despite the struggle on the stairway, and he blessed good luck that seemed to be on their side. “How’s your arm?”

The older boy covered the injured limb with his sweater-vest after very carefully removing the article of clothing. “Pretty beat up. It’s… bad. No, don’t give me that look. Wasn’t gonna say anything, anyway. Getting you out was more important. Besides, having you die and me live would have been bad for business. Think of how much it would increase when the world knows that I saved the scrawny, and absolutely _useless_ , great Alan Tracy!”

“You’re such a crude ass.”

“Of course. We’re rivals. Hey, is your watch thing working yet?”

Alan glanced down at the device. “Works in all sorts of places, but apparently not in an elevator. I’ll have to talk to Brains about that. It’s probably the thick concrete walls of the shaft.”

“Guess that’s Mr. Hackenbacker, right? Hey, we should start getting up to stand.” Joshua glanced up at the floor numbers again as he helped the younger stand up again. Floor ten, nine, eight, seven – they were making amazing time! “When this is over, as a reward for pulling you out of there and completely ignoring that doctor’s orders, will you show me the Thunderbirds?”

“If Dad’ll let me, yeah. Take you flying, too, if you wanted. Well, given the fact that you practically beat the crap out of me, I’m not sure how thrilled on the idea they’ll be now that I think about it.” Alan looked up at the numbers too. Six, five, four… He coughed a bit, blinking as he felt the elevator give a sharp jolt, knocking them both back to the floor. “What the hell was that?!”

Their stomachs dropped as the elevator lights shut off and the car began to plummet with a mighty roar.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/11 – 9:57 a.m. EST _

**Thunderbird One, ETA to Danger Zone – 40 Minutes**

Scott was frustrated. He’d have been at the Danger Zone already if that tropical storm had not interfered with the International Rescue departure, or being targeted by the military as he had feared. Luckily, they had quickly realized who they were and allowed him back on his way, but told him to take it slow. That the nation was in a panic.

He hated how long this was taking. He wanted to go to full speed, but the people were petrified. The skies were grounded of all craft. Thunderbird One was more than likely causing a few panics. That green bug, too.

Thoughts drifting to his younger brother and his ‘rescuer’ – if he could call him that – he worried. Alan was hurt with bruised ribs, and a busted leg. Not to mention forced to put weight on the injured limb to get down the building stairwell until they had been able to board an elevator.

Scott could not relax. How he wanted to talk to his youngest brother again, though it would be only a few more minutes until that happened. ‘ _I should have called him last night. I shouldn’t have listened to John. I should have…_ ’ The eldest sighed, clenching his eyes shut for a moment. ‘ _Stop, Scott. You’ll talk to him in a couple of minutes, once he’s clear._ ’

Flipping a switch, he watched one of the news feeds that John was feeding him – ableit muted. The sky over Manhattan Island was choked with thick black clouds. Hopefully his brother was going to be able to get out of the danger and to safety. After all, the crashes had not been low enough to damage the infrastructure, right? They were practically at the top of the building.

Alan would be fine. There was no danger the further down he went. He would more than likely be complaining about how long they took and greeting them soon enough. Scott was ready for that. Ready to pull his brother into a long hug and not let him go for quite a while.

After that, he would let Alan help him out with the rescue by piloting a bit or spotting. Yeah, his littlest brother would like that. Forget that he was injured. The best place for Alan would be on board a Thunderbird, safe from strangers and the paparazzi that would hound him at a normal hospital.

They would have to bring him into the mighty machines discreetly, however, as it would look fairly odd that they were taking one of the Wharton students.

John’s sudden shout pulled him from his thoughts. “John? What’s going on?”

“ _The... the South Tower... It’s gone. It just...the building’s collapsed,_ ” John breathed over the airwaves. “ _Alan… He…_ ”

Scott’s attention snapped to the monitor that showed the news. Before his eyes via CNN, he watched in horror as the video feed showed the collapse of the mighty building. Time seemed to slow as it happened. 9:59 a.m.

The upper portion of the South Tower began to lean toward the right and fall into itself. A sort of dust explosion enveloped the upper portions of the skyscraper and slowly sucked into itself, trailing the falling building as it collapsed. It was like lava canopying from a volcano. A flower’s petals drooping in a time lapse video. A reverse mushroom cloud of death. The building simply became smaller and smaller while smoke, debris, dust, and who knows what else followed it down.

The ferocious roar sounded like the thrusters of all their Thunderbirds taking off at once from the same hanger mixed with the screams of hundreds of people whose lives were ending. Pure Hell raining down with a percussion of demons leading the way.

His heart sank as his chest clenched, hitching his breathing. This was not happening.

_“SCOTT!”_

His mother’s voice from so long ago rang out, taking him to the past. The collapsing building switching into thunderous snow crashing down upon them. Two pairs of frightened blue eyes. Four-year-old Alan’s terrified screech. Lucille’s hand ripped from his…

Just like that, it was gone again. The past was in the past, but the present was history repeating itself. This time, instead of the Tracy matriarch being pulled away from them with young Alan, it was only one. There was no snow, but it was an avalanche nonetheless.

Pained tears sprung to his eyes. He clenched them shut, trying to fight against the heart-stopping misery. “No... **_No_**!”

He had failed his family once again by not being fast enough.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/11 – 9:58 a.m. EST _

**Three blocks away from the Twin Towers**

Fermat was frustrated. He wanted to get down and walk, but Mr. Maus refused. Stating that it would be faster for him to be carried. The young man was not one to complain, though. He was pleased with the quick pace they were making since finally leaving the Towers. They had stayed the fifteen minutes as promised, and a little beyond that too. Thirty minutes. Now they were walking towards somewhere that could get them to the hotel.

He was relieved, though. He had been contacted by Alan, who had told him that he and Joshua had made it to a staircase. That he was hurt, but they were making their way down from the 75th level. When asked about the rest of the classmates, Alan had simply stated they had not made it. That they had been too high up.

Fermat had not enjoyed relaying this to the rest of the group he traveled with. That there were only two survivors from the South Tower school group. The silence that had followed his revelation had been deafening.

He had not heard from Alan for almost ten minutes. Last thing he had gotten was that he was getting on an elevator. From there, silence.

The young Hackenbacker did not worry, though. Alan would be free soon, and they would go back home to Tracy Island to recover from this ordeal. To recover from the loss of fellow students and a teacher. There would more than likely be a memorial service held in their honor.

“What’s that noise?” Ray Pilot spoke up, pulling Fermat from his thoughts.

He felt his teacher stop moving and they all turned around, facing the smoking buildings behind them. Only, one of the buildings seemed to be falling. A billowing cloud flooded through the streets as the Tower came down.

Screams filled the air as people around them began running for their lives as the cloud of dust, ash, and debris crashed through the streets, swallowing up victims like the Black Plague. Visibility switched from clear as day to non-existent in an instant.

Mr. Maus began running, leading his students to a nearby store and pushing them into the way back behind the counters as the deadly cloud sailed past, shattering the glass panes and swirling a bit into the building.

' _Alan!_ ' Fermat thought in horror, his throat not working as he crouched down behind the counter, shaking with terror with his head bent down and hands protecting the back of his head and neck.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/11 – 9:59 a.m. EST _

**Thunderbird Two, thirty seconds after collapse, ETA – One Hour**

Jeff Tracy’s heart stopped at the words his eldest blond stated. The South Tower was gone. Collapsed – _gone_. He watched the same news recording that Scott was aboard Thunderbird One, his stomach dropping as he watched the mighty building collapse.

“Please tell me I’m not seeing this,” Virgil gasped from his seat, his eyes glued to the video screen.

On the other side of the cockpit, Gordon was in equal shock and awe. “John, _please_ tell me he’s out of there.”

John’s holo-form appeared, his face solemn. “ _No… He was on the fourth floor in an elevator, according to the tracker. I couldn’t talk to him in there, but I could track him. Dad...Dad, the signal’s gone. I can’t find it. It’s… It’s just… **gone** …_”

Gordon’s eyes narrowed, and he couldn’t stop himself from slamming his fists on the console and uttering a curse word so foul that if Jeff had been in his right mind might would have thrown a book at his head. His brother! His only younger brother was now… White hot rage flowed through his blood. Whoever had done this would pay dearly.

Virgil bowed his head for a moment, reigning back in his emotions. He could not allow them to control his thoughts and actions. He refused to lose control. Losing control was one of the worst things a rescuer could do. Losing control meant making mistakes, and that was something none of them could afford. Not this time. He would not even allow himself to think of his youngest sibling; should he, he would break.

Jeff remained stoic in his command seat, his knuckles white from his tight grip of the armrests. Like Virgil, he was reigning in his emotions. Unlike his middle son, he was having a tougher time. He wanted revenge. He wanted to yell, scream, and punch something. Anything! His son... His baby boy was lost. If John had lost his signal, then there was no doubt about it. There was no hope to be had.

There was one less Tracy. Alan had been swept away in an avalanche, just like his mother.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/11 – 10:15 a.m. EST _

**Thunderbird Five**

John was desperate. No, that was not quite it. The astronaut was frantic. Yes, that was it. There had to be some way to find the signal. Alan could not just be _gone_. This was _Alan_ , for pity’s sake! Alan, the guy who was constantly in trouble or getting hurt, but could survive anything. Heck, at only four years old, he had lived through an avalanche that should have killed him but had taken their mother instead.

At ten, he had survived being pulled out to sea on Tracy Island after being caught in a riptide. At twelve, he had blown up a science building and almost himself – then again, Alan saw that as something to be proud of. At fourteen – almost fifteen – he survived the Hood. So many times he should have died, yet he had remained alive by sheer luck and Pure Tracy Stubbornness, or PTS, as Gordon dubbed it. Had his luck finally run out? John refused to believe so.

“Come on, John! Think! Maybe it’s just interference? The airwaves are jam packed full of signals coming and going!” he muttered to himself. This was the second eldest Tracy son’s area of expertise. College had taught him quite a few things about sorting out signals and amplifying things. He just needed to focus and work on it!

Pausing for just the slightest of moments, he looked down at his trembling fingers. Normally, he was calm and collected when such rescues occurred, but this? This was personal. It was reasonable that he was unnerved by the events of the morning. If Alan had not contacted him that morning, he would have missed the events, having slept in after watching that movie. Missed talking to his fellow space-nut one last time.

It was funny how the fates worked. He could have slept through all of this until receiving the call from the President. By then, it would have been too late to ever hear Alan’s voice again. He would have only been left to remember their last conversation, the night prior.

That, and the conversation that had taken place a week prior dealing with issues Alan had at school. Something about a guy that was causing Fermat issue. Yet, now that John thought back on it, he realized that Alan was not just talking about Fermat that was having the issues…

**F** **LASHBAC** **K**

_“Is it the one who dislocated your arm before?” John questioned, big brotherly rage lacing his voice._

_“I told you I fell.” Holo-Alan shook his head. “Dad doesn’t need to think otherwise, John. Neither do the others, I can hold my own. Have before. All they need to know is that I fell, Johnny. Please don’t go giving them false ideas.”_

_“Alan... Sprout, I know we’re one of the busiest families on the planet, but we’d always make time for helping you out.”_

_“That doesn’t matter! I don’t want your help! I’m not as important as saving lives around the world. Why do you think I planted that subroutine into Dad’s computer? There’s no point in him knowing about events that aren’t as important as rescuing.”_

_“Alan…,” the platinum blonde’s brows furrowed. There had been quite a few instances where Alan had been pushed aside in favor of a rescue. How many times had the youngest Tracy asked for some sort of aid and was instead ignored for him to feel this way? For him to plant a subroutine in their father’s computer just to give his father a legitimate excuse for not going to yet another event instead of a rescue? Yes, John knew that he should let his father know of this information immediately, so why did he hesitate? Alan probably had not even realized that he had let the information slip._

_“No, John. I’m fine. I’ve been doing okay on my own so far, and bullying is not important enough, which is not happening. At all. Unless I’m blowing up a school...” There was a pause as Alan frowned and sighed. “So, how’s the station, spaceman?”_

_Noting the change in subject – and knowing that if he tried to go back to it his younger would terminate the link – John shook his head. “The station’s fine, Alan. And, yes, I’ve been doing more zero-gravity time. It is pretty fun.”_

_“One of these days I’ll be joining you up there. It’ll be a blast! But... time to go. The RA will be coming along soon, and I’m not about to get busted again, even for your pretty face. Besides, we’re leaving super early tomorrow for New York. See you later! I’ll be sure to bring you back a souvenir!”_

_As the link terminated, the older Tracy sighed and shook his head, connecting himself to his father to give his latest report on the station. He would keep Alan’s secrets for now, until his baby brother was ready to spill them for himself._

**E** **N** **D F** **LASHBAC** **K**

Had it really been so long since they had spoken about anything but the stars? Anything truly real? John knew that with the time-zone changes, and their distance apart, getting to talk together was a pain. John was constantly busy with his job on the space station, a grueling task that left one sleeping odd hours. Sure, John answered emails from his little brother, but video-chatting? That did not happen nearly as often as they should have. Last night had been special and rare. One of the few times his youngest brother showed vulnerability. Now he might never get the chance again.

There were so many ‘what ifs’, that it was quite frankly ridiculous.

“ _Con-Control to Thunderbird Five._ ”

Brains’ voice pulled the man out of his dark thoughts and he turned to the holo-form of the balding inventor. “Reading you loud and clear, Brains. Go ahead.”

“ _Have y-you go-gotten the_...”

“No,” he responded, a bit more sharply than he meant. Sucking in a breath, he mentally counted to ten. “No... Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just frustrated.” He glanced over at the EST clock, which showed it was 10:20 in New York. Alan had been buried for little over twenty minutes. “I can’t find his signal. I thought those watches were indestructible.”

Holo-Brains nodded in agreement. They should have been, but being buried under so much rubble would have taken a toll on the signal. While they could boost a signal from the station, they could not boost the signal from the watch. There was no way to do so. There had been, however, an experiment put on the watches that if there was danger, the wearer could send out an alarm that would pinpoint his location. Regardless, everyone had been made to carry around a second communication device, which Alan had refused, stating that his phone always vanished.

John could not remember if Alan knew about the experiment or not. If he did, they would be able to find him fairly quickly. That was if he was even alive. All John had to do was try to get a message through to him.

Sighing, he turned back to Holo-Brains. “Have you spoken to Fermat yet?”

“ _Not yet,_ ” the single father replied, his voice giving away his worry.

“I’m sure he’s trying to get through. We all saw him get out on that newscast. He’s safe, Brains. The airwaves are just jumbled. He’s smart like you. He’ll figure out a way to get a signal out,” John soothed, glancing over at the time. 10:25 a.m. EST. Geez. Time usually trickled by in a rescue. Why did it seem to be going by so fast today? “Thunderbird One, what is your ETA?”

Scott’s small holo-form appeared besides Brains. “ _Thunderbird One is seventeen minutes out, Thunderbird Five._ ”

John frowned, hearing the crack in his older brother’s voice, and then contacted his father. “Thunderbird Two, what is your ETA?”

“ _Thunderbird Two is twenty-seven minutes out_ ,” Jeff responded. Like with Scott, John could hear the tremble in his father’s voice.

Part of John wished he could be there to help them out, but he had never been one for physical rescues. He was better suited for being up in the satellite than anything. The grunt work was something he had always left to the rest of his family. He preferred being up away from the action, pleased that he did not have to see what his brother’s and father did in terms of gore. It was well known that he was not particularly fond of blood. Blood and needles. Ugh. Horrible things.

Hearing shocked cries, John turned back to the news, his heart dropping. With a pinched expression, John turned back to the holo-forms. “Our mission has turned from rescue to recovery. International Rescue, the North Tower has fallen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was beta'd by Shadowfox8 of Fanfiction.net. If you haven't read her work, I recommend it! :) 
> 
> Also, those who follow me on FF.Net might realize that I changed this chapter title from "Too Late" to "A Moment Too Late".


	3. The Arrival

_ 9/11 – 10:28 a.m. EST _

**Thunderbird Two, ETA – Twenty-one minutes**

“ _Our mission has turned from rescue to recovery. International Rescue, the North Tower has fallen._ ”

Gordon did not think the tension in the cockpit of Thunderbird Two could have gotten any thicker. Obviously, he had been so very, very wrong. At this point, the redhead was convinced that not even the Thunderizer laser could cut through the thickness.

The North Tower.

The South.

Both were gone, and along with them Alan and countless others buried beneath the once majestic buildings.

Gordon knew there was a chance, however slim, that Alan had survived the collapse of the first tower. To survive the second tower? It was just not possible. No one was _that_ lucky. Not even the accident-prone Alan Tracy. By the time they got there, more than likely no one would be left alive. Nothing left but a graveyard. Pile of death. They would not even be able to use their Mole or Excavator, more than likely. Not with so many bodies. Using those machines would turn the rubble into a blood bath.

Why were they even bothering? Alan was gone. John had said so himself in the form that the signal was lost. Everyone else was probably dead, too. There was no reason for them to go now. Not in his opinion. Of course, he knew they had to go no matter what. There was a chance of survival – no matter how small – and they had been requested.

 _Requested_. The word sounded so foul in the mind. Requested like servants. Never before had the word brought so much anger to his mind. They should have gotten moving sooner! As soon as John told them what was going on. Damn the United Nations and the sanctions put on them! Maybe if they had started clearing things sooner and gotten going that much faster, they could have reached Alan in time!

The cockpit had fallen silent after John’s announcement. Quiet and eerily calm. The tension and apprehension was starting to get to him. Pricking at his mind. Ebbing away at his rescue-mode mentality. Leaving behind just Gordon Tracy, younger brother to three and older brother to one. One who was…

“Why? Why are you two so calm?” he asked, bitterness creeping into his voice as he turned his chair to look at the other two trapped in the cockpit with him. “Alan is dead, and you two can’t even shed a tear!” The twenty-three-year-old was furious. How could they possibly be so calm?!

Feeling their gazes upon them only infuriated him further. They were staying so quiet! Did they not realize that Alan was buried? Did they not care? Why could they not make any sort of emotional response? Shifting his gaze to his father, his brown eyes narrowed. “You’re supposed to be our father, and you can’t even-”

Jeff glowered at his second youngest. “Do not mistake my calmness for emptiness, Gordon Cooper Tracy!” he seethed, his tone betraying the raging turmoil within. “I am every bit as furious and heartbroken as you, but I will not allow my emotions to control me! We have a mission to do. Yes, it involves Alan, but that does not change anything! We have people to save, if we can, and if your emotions are going to compromise you, then I will order Virgil to drop you off at the nearest bus stop!”

Gordon flinched, looking away. There was nothing he could say now that would not get him into more hot water. The fight was gone from within him, just like that. Misery was all that remained.

“I want you to go to the back and collect yourself before we arrive. You’re of no use to anyone in this state of mind.” Jeff watched as Gordon unbuckled and got up to do as ordered, leaving just the other two in the front. The brown-haired man turned to his fellow brunette son. “And you?”

“I’m fine, Dad. I’ll be fine. I’m a doctor, remember? I know how to keep calm in tense situations. I mean, I’ve patched most of you up before with Brains,” Virgil responded coolly. Years of medical school and years of practice in the field had given him a calmness of bamboo swaying in the wind. Able to bend, but not break. “Don’t be so harsh on Gordon. He always was the closest to...” He broke off, shifting his gaze away.

“I know. That’s why he must reign in his emotions or he will not think clearly and will instead make a mistake that we cannot afford. Not this time.” Jeff sighed and finally released his grip on the armrests, watching as the blood flowed back into his fingers, sending sharp, needle-like pricks of pain throughout them. That had not been such a good idea.

“We must remain vigilant and as helpful as we can be. This is going to be tricky enough. We have no idea how many people are still trapped under the rubble – including Alan. We don’t even know if any are still alive.” The single father took a deep breath, trying his best to not think about his youngest.

When was the last time he had seen him in person? Right... back in the middle of July when Lady Penelope had come to pick up Alan and Fermat to take them back to boarding school with Brains tagging along. Jeff was never quite sure why Wharton Academy started so early in the year; then again, they also ended school towards the end of April. The only reason for this was due to the fact that they had Saturday classes as well, something that had always annoyed his youngest.

Jeff would have gone himself to drop them off, but he hated good-byes. He had a business meeting in the opposite direction, in some country in Europe that he did not care to remember at that particular moment. He knew Alan had been disappointed, just by his final phrase when Jeff apologized for not going.

_“Don’t worry. I’m used to it.”_

Those words had hurt the father more than he was willing to admit. If only he had just canceled the meeting and taken his son back to school. He would have loved to keep Alan around, but he had learned long ago that letting his youngest have social interaction and time away from Tracy Island was better than allowing him to be distracted all the time by International Rescue operations like he used to be.

Oh, yes, Alan used to get into all sorts of mischief before Jeff finally had enough and sent him away when he reached eleven-years-old. The final act that had driven the nail into that coffin was Alan sneaking on board Thunderbird Two right before a rescue, and almost getting himself killed when he had come out to ‘help’. He had nearly gotten their secret exposed, and himself almost burned to a crisp in a resulting explosion from the refinery fire.

He could still recall his youngest’s hurt and anger at being sent away with Fermat. His fury that almost eighteen-year-old Gordon never being sent away. Alan had thrown quite a fit about his father’s decision, which had only made Jeff’s argument that much more firm.

Then, there had been the lab explosion. Jeff could laugh about that now, and even a little back then, but he had been so furious with his son about not only getting himself expelled from such a prestigious boarding school, but Fermat too.

When Alan had been transferred to Wharton Academy, Jeff knew that he was going to be further away from his family than he had ever been before. To send a twelve-year-old across the entire country… It had killed him to do it, but Wharton’s had been the best place. It had the highest security, full of other children that came from rich families, and had a very high graduation rate - 95%.

Yet, Alan had put mediocre effort into his studies. Slipping behind. Rebelling. Becoming moody and a full blown spoiled brat. Butting heads with not only his brothers, but with Jeff especially. The Pure Tracy Stubbornness was strong with Alan, and given that Alan had his mother’s spirit, he was quite the force to be reckoned with. While his brothers had inherited traits from their mother, Alan had come out the most like her in both personality and physical appearance.

Alan had come home the Spring Break before his birthday with a black eye and broken lip. Gotten into a physical fight at school with another boy. Jeff had ripped him a new one for that, not even giving his son a chance to explain what the fight had been about. Why he had given into his temper.

The youngest Tracy had continued to be bitter that Spring Break, avoiding his family of teasing brothers and disappointed father. Until he had almost lost everything.

It was that one day that Jeff realized how mature his son could really be. Quick thinking, quick reflexes, and the daring and stubbornness of a Tracy. He saw his son grow up before his time. How he had his own demons that he battled with, and had for many years. Demons that Jeff had not even realized he had, as they had been so carefully hidden away by the youngest Tracy out of fear of disappointing his family.

Like how he _did_ remember his mother’s death, a fact that the Hood had exploited in one last effort to bring Jeff and his boys pain before Thunderbird Five lost power. To see Alan’s terror, to hear him cry as he was forced to relieve the memory.

Yet, Alan had come away from it stronger. He had survived the Hood’s mental attacks, and later his physical.

When he had returned to Wharton Academy for the last month, still recovering from his ordeal with the Hood, things had changed. Alan’s focus had increased. His grades rose up to the point that he would be going on to the next year instead of being held back. His next school year had shown an even more increased focus and interest. He became one of the highest graded students. Praised by his teachers. Completely turned around.

His sixteenth year, started just a few months back, showed that he was going to have a repeat of his previous amazing year. Yet, Jeff had become concerned. Why had he no school announcements? No information on any events? Fermat had mentioned that Alan was in cross country, and track and field. Yet Jeff knew nothing of any dates, and when he had questioned his son about it… nothing! None of it had made any sense, until he found the subroutine. Even then, it still made no sense.

Now, he would not have the chance to ask his son about it.

While Jeff did not want to take any of his accomplishments from him, he was now regretting ever sending Alan away instead of having him take online courses like Tin-Tin. Maybe then he would not have been in New York. He would not be lying in a pile of death, possibly dead.

He would be home – _safe_.

Closing his eyes, he could almost picture a slightly younger Alan learning the controls of Thunderbird Two better from Virgil, or sitting in the cockpit of Thunderbird One with Scott on one of their missions while training. While Alan was a trainee at last, he was never a full-fledged member of the team. Eventually, he would be one they would be proud to have, given his quick reflexes and startling piloting skills.

When he turned eighteen he was going to be an official part of the team. If he reached that age, at least.

Jeff had noticed that while Alan had taken to Thunderbird One and Two, he always was looking towards the stars. Not much else perked his interest as space. Alan was like John and Jeff. He was meant to be an astronaut. The younger Tracy had often asked Jeff to take him up in Thunderbird Three multiple times, and Jeff had always told him “ _next time_ ” despite Alan’s begging.

He had always believed Alan to be too young to be in the rocket ship just yet. Well, that was not quite true. Jeff had been planning on taking him up to Thunderbird Five with him to bring John down for the winter holidays. He had wanted to test a theory about his youngest boy, to see if he was right. To see how he would handle co-piloting the spaceship, before he gave him the special simulator game for the new secret Thunderbird Three. He might not get the chance, now.

Alan would have loved to see the stars.

‘ _Stop it, Jeff. Even if we don’t find him alive, I’ll still take him to the stars. Scatter his ashes in space like we did with Lucille. She would be happy for the company,_ ’ he thought to himself miserably as he closed his eyes. ‘ _Lu, take care of our boy. If he’s already gone, welcome him into your arms._ ’

Virgil eyed the instrument readouts for the large green craft, his baby. Or great green bug, as his brothers enjoyed calling it. Thunderbird Two was his pride and joy, how well she handled and what all she could carry. She held within her bay the various instruments used by the rescue group. From the digging Mole, to the firefighting Firefly, and everything in between. Including mech suits called exo-skeletons that could lift quite a bit of weight. They would be using those today, more than likely, to sift through the rubble.

Virgil had the best aircraft. There was no doubt about it, in his opinion. She may be bulky and slower than Thunderbirds One and Three, but she got the job done! Yet... Would she be able to get this job done? Would she be able to rescue all who were trapped? How many were even alive? Was the rubble of the Twin Towers just a graveyard now? How could anyone survive having a skyscraper collapse on them? Let alone two!

The brunette twenty-five-year-old sighed as he took in the readings. Thunderbird Two was in good condition and had plenty of fuel for the heavy lifting she would more than likely have to do. Yet, now that Virgil thought about it, the more he realized that moving rubble with the mighty craft could be deadly. Who knew for sure where there would be victims? Their instruments would have a tough time discerning body heat from fires that were more than likely present throughout the mass grave. The new life seeking instruments had not been fully implemented just yet, as they were still in trial stages and non-reliable.

Alan would be put in danger, too, if he was even still... No. Virgil refused to let himself think about the family baby being trapped, possibly dead, within the rubble. No, in his mind, Alan was safe at home, lying in a sunchair by the pool, sipping one of Onaha’s slushies and eating brussels sprouts. Yes, Alan was fine. He was safe. He was happy. He was not buried as their mother once had been.

“ _Thunderbird One is ETA one minute. Visibility is low, Thunderbird Two. Use your instruments. The danger zone is..._ ” Scott’s voice dropped out, and Virgil frowned.

“Scott? What do you see?” the younger Tracy questioned before his father could. He glanced over to his left as Gordon rejoined him at the console, strapping into his seat.

“ _This is... worse than we could have imagined, guys. I’ve never seen a disaster like this before._ ”

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/11 – 10:40 a.m. EST _

**Thunderbird One, on scene**

Steel beams peeked through the rubble like skeletal fingers reaching for the light. Concrete lay like flakes of flesh stripped from the bone, some grounded into powder. Broken glass appeared like frightened eyes and shattered hope. Death. Those were the words that could best describe what lay below him.

It was as if the buildings had thrown up all their garbage into one large pile, joined by the partially destroyed buildings of the other, much smaller, World Trade Centers Three – Six. Even the Marriott Hotel was crushed down the middle and front, leaving only the back and sides still standing.

Had anyone been inside the other buildings? Scott prayed not. Having to find and rescue or recover those from the Towers was going to be enough of a challenge, let alone from surrounding structures.

Flying overhead, the former Air Force pilot looked down, surveying the destruction, paling at the destroyed vehicles. A crushed firetruck… numerous ambulances… police cars.

His deep blue eyes could not have gotten any wider as Scott studied the wreckage. He knew the moment he saw it fully that there was no way their mighty machines could get down there to help. There were too many bodies, and it would take time to dig out any survivors. There were too many small pieces intertwined with survivors, and to try and find victims with their heat scanners would be nearly impossible. There were more than likely fires burning beneath the rubble, given how much smoke was filling the air still.

The Thunderbird machines would have to wait until a day or so passed. If not more. All that would be of any use right now would be the exo-skeletons, it appeared. Not even the Mole or Excavator could be used just yet. The Firefly, perhaps, but not in the rubble. No, the newly designed foam would suffocate anyone still alive. The thought of even firing a missile into the burning structures to rob them of the oxygen to burn was _definitely_ out of the question.

He would have to talk to Brains about speeding up the trials for their new scanners, just in case something like this happened again. “There are all sorts of rubble out here. I don’t know how much help we’re going to be, to be honest. I’m going to land down in Battery Park and see if I can find any help. Virgil, you brought the exo-skeltons?” he questioned.

“ _Of course, I did. I brought all the sets we had_ ,” his younger brother responded, his holo-form looking offended. “ _I figured that we could have gotten higher up in the buildings and free trapped people._ ”

“And now we’re clearing rubble instead. Lovely. Thunderbird Five, have you heard from Fermat yet?” Scott asked as he took his Thunderbird in for a landing. There was nothing else he could do yet, but perhaps he could find Fermat and get him to safety.

“ _I’m tracking his signal, but with all the debris in the air, it’s difficult to exactly pinpoint it. I’m sending you the most consistent coordinates now. Be careful. There’s obstructions everywhere,_ ” John responded.

“F.A.B., Thunderbird Five. I’ll check in soon.”

Upon exiting his mighty machine, Scott donned his tinted helmet and a bag of basic supplies including a small oxygen tank and mask. Surveying his surroundings yet again, the field commander sighed. At least the ground here was clear, not that it would last. With one last glance at the smoky sky, the eldest Tracy son began walking.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/11 – 10:50 a.m. EST _

**Three blocks from WTC Plaza**

“Is it over finally?” sophomore Alex Riley questioned, slowly getting up from behind the counter. They had thought it was over after the first cloud, but had remained where they were, just waiting. It was not more than thirty minutes later that another scream of metal ripping apart metal did the second huge cloud of destruction flow past, taking those who had been brave enough to venture back out into the streets.

Beside him, the blue-haired Raymond Pilot shook his head, unsure. “What was that, anyway? Did the top of the buildings collapse or something? One looked like it was getting smaller.”

“Let’s hope not,” Mr. Maus responded, though he knew it was very possible. He looked over at Fermat, who was using his inhaler again as the broken windows had filled the store with barely breathable air. “Are your lungs any better?”

Fermat sighed, his dust-covered face an expression of pure misery. “B-Barely.” He looked down at his watch, seeing it flash. John or his father were trying to contact him on the emergency frequency. Maybe even Alan? He could not answer them now! Not with so many around him. Thinking quickly, he said the first thing that came to mind. “Mr. Maus? I ne-need to go t-to the ba-bathroom.”

“Uh...” The teacher glanced around for a moment before seeing a sign for the bathroom. Getting up, he went to check it out, throwing a few people out, and allowed Fermat inside. “Make it quick. We’re going to try and make a break for it and get away from here. Get you to a hospital where you can get some proper oxygen.”

Fermat nodded and shut the door, feeling a bit dizzy. Looking at himself in the mirror, he could see that his wound had reopened, a line of blood rolling down his filthy face. Nothing that could not be taken care of at the hospital. Sighing, he sat down on the toilet and answered the call.

“ _Fermat! T-There you are!_ ” John’s voice rang out, the signal not strong enough to support a steady holo-form, but instead a flickering figure. “ _We were worried sick!_ ”

“John! I’m o-okay. We g-got out and we-we’re in a store. I d-don’t know wh-what one.”

“ _That’s okay. I think I’ve found you. Scott should be there soon, kiddo. You have no idea how happy I am to hear your voice._ ”

Fermat nodded in agreement. “Alan?” At John’s hesitation, the young teenager’s stomach dropped. “John? Wh-where’s Alan?”

The blond holo-Tracy sighed. “ _His group did not make it out._ ”

No. It wasn’t possible. Alan’s group was still inside the building?! “B-But the f-firefighters are g-gonna ge-get to them, ri-right?! He c-can-can’t be that h-hi-high up! G-Got on an ele-elevator!”

Holo-John frowned. “ _Fermat, the towers... Both of the towers collapsed. They’re gone._ ”

“What?” That explained why the dust cloud had been so bad. That explained so much, including what they had seen. Getting up from where he sat, he walked out to the main room, stumbling slightly. “M-Mr. Ma-Maus?”

The man looked over at the young student, blinking when he saw the non-steady holo-figure. “What?”

“Th-The to-towers... B-Both the To-Towers are gone. T-they... They di-di-didn’t g-get out!”

“What did you say?” the teacher questioned, blinking when the holo-form disappeared.

“Ah, there you are! Found you at last, kid!”

Fermat’s head turned so sharply that dizziness overtook him, and he fell into his teacher’s arms yet again. “Sc-Scott!”

The figure in the doorway smiled as he walked through the broken glass, slipping his helmet off his head, revealing the brown locks of Scott Tracy. Giving his head a slight shake, he put his helmet under his arm and approached the young Brainiac. “Hey, Fermat. I see you’ve gotten yourself hurt. How’d that happen?”

“I fell.”

“Huh. Well, let’s get you cleaned up real quick, and then I’ll get to the rest of you, if you truly need it. Thunderbird Two arrived just as I found you, kid.” Scott knelt down in front of him, reaching into his bag for the oxygen tank and mask, slipping the mask over the teenager’s face.

Raymond blinked, staring with wonder at this person that he now identified as a member of International Rescue. “Fermat, you’re so much cooler now. You know International Rescue?!”

The other boys from the school group looked at the young nerd with wonder, all very impressed and confused.

Scott shook his head a bit as he removed Fermat’s bandage and began cleaning the wound. “Now, I’m not as good as Virgil with this, but it should feel a bit better now,” he spoke as he touched the alcohol to the cut. To his credit, Fermat did not flinch away, though he so desperately wanted to. “You’ve got quite the nasty bump here, kid. Did you lose consciousness?”

“For about ten, fifteen minutes,” Mr. Maus spoke up from where he held his student.

“Ah, that’s not good. Hopefully, it is just a concussion. Virge’ll know better when we get you to that ugly green bug.”

Fermat frowned, eyes downcast. He knew Scott was trying to take his mind off things, not that it helped. “Alan’s dead, isn’t he.”

The elder Tracy paused as he began the bandaging. “His watch signal is gone, yes. Four of his group were killed when the plane struck. Only he and another made it out of that. They... They were almost out of the building when it collapsed.” Scott held nothing back. He knew that Fermat needed to hear this. They all did.

He chose to ignore their gasps and soft whimpers as they realized their friends were gone. Right now, his focus was on Fermat and keeping him calm. He knew what it was like when Fermat got worked up, and when he walked out of the building and down to safety, he had to know what he was going to see before he actually saw it to minimize the reaction.

“Just breathe, Fermat. Breathe. Deep breaths,” he soothed, rubbing his back. Slipping one of Fermat’s inhalers into the special slot, he smiled as the breathing eased a bit. “I know this air is horrible for you to breathe in, but I’m afraid there’s not much I can offer you other than this.” He hated hearing the boy wheeze like he was; it was something he was never used to. Virgil might have, given that he was the doctor of the Island, but Scott? Nope!

“That’s it,” Scott smiled, pleased to see that Fermat’s vitals were improving from what he could see on his wrist holo-screen as he held onto the teenager’s pulse point. “You’re doing great. We’ll get you out of here, champ, and back home.”

“What ab-about...”

“We’ll get Alan back, too. One way or another, Alan _will_ come home. I promise.”

Raymond watched this interaction, realization slowly dawning on him. “Are you Alan’s older brother?”

Scott chose not to answer, which was answer enough for the blue-haired boy.

“Oh... So, this is personal.”

“Raymond, please keep your mouth shut,” Mr. Maus warned. “This is personal for everyone.”

Scott sighed before treating the rest of the wounded inside the damaged building. He tried to take a few minutes with each of them to calm them if he could, before returning to the scared group of students. “Scans of the area reveal no other buildings in danger of collapse, thankfully. Please put these face masks on and follow me out of the danger zone.” He pulled back on his helmet and picked up the bag and Fermat, carrying him back out into the streets.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/11 – 11:00 a.m. EST _

**Thunderbird Two, Battery Park**

Gordon strapped on his exo-skeleton, and tested it out as he stood beneath the mighty green beast. He looked towards the smoking city, feeling once again like he was on his way into a war zone. ‘ _It might as well be. They said it was a terrorist attack_ ,’ he thought to himself bitterly. ‘ _The Towers weren’t the only targets, either. One hit the Pentagon a while ago, and another in a field._ ’

Why did so much loss have to happen? The world had changed in an instant. He could feel war growing. People would be calling for blood. Hell, he wanted blood for what had been done to his younger brother. He wanted to find the person responsible for this disaster and rip their heads off! Crush them with one of the Thunderbirds.

His father would probably be quite cross with him for these dark thoughts, but he cared not. This was something he had to work through. He only had one younger brother, and now Alan was…

Part of him hoped that Alan would simply walk out, a stupid grin on his face, and give them a little not-so-guilty wave like he had when they had responded to the chemistry lab explosion.

**F** **LASHBAC** **K**

_Flying over upper California, twenty-year-old Gordon looked out at the world. This was one of his first missions as a full-fledged member of International Rescue after his win at the Olympics. Two years since his hydrofoil incident that got him medically discharged from W.A.S.P. after only being part of the group for a few short months. He was feeling good and proud of himself, able to contribute to the family at last._

_He even had his own Thunderbird, Thunderbird Four, a yellow mini submarine. His father had made it just for him, though he was also trained on Thunderbird Three to accompany his father on any space rescues. It was Thunderbird Four that held his love, though, and she was currently in the bay of Thunderbird Two, which he was currently sitting in with his father and brother Virgil._

_They had just left a mission in the United States Appalachian Mountains – a rockslide that had trapped fifteen hikers – and were on their way back to the Island._

_“You did good, Gordon,” Jeff praised, looking down at him from his seat beside him. Virgil was piloting, while the other two provided instrument readouts and navigation. “That quick save was impressive.”_

_He grinned at the praise. He had managed to yank one of the hikers out of the way while they had been repelling to freedom when the rockslide began again. “Thanks, Dad. Say, can we pop down and say hi to Alan and Fermat real quick? We’ll be flying overhead in a few minutes.”_

_“You know as well as I that we cannot do that, son,” Jeff laughed. “As fun as it would be, we are supposed to remain a secret. Anonymous. The name Tracy cannot be associated with International Rescue. It would put Alan in danger.”_

_“Or make him the most popular kid in school,” Virgil laughed._

_“_ He’d love the visit. He’s quite mad about being sent off to school, _” John spoke from Thunderbird Five._

_“You realize why Dad sent him, right? Because he nearly got himself killed because he stowed away on my ‘Bird!” Virgil argued._

_“Kid’s just curious!”_

_“And dangerous!”_

_“Boys, enough.”_

_“_ We could at least do a flyover! _” Scott piped up from Thunderbird One. “_ Sprout’ll love that! _”_

_“We can do that,” Jeff mused, grinning. It would make his youngest son’s day, after all. “Virgil, set a course.”_

_“F.A.B!”_

_Gordon rubbed his gloved hands together excitedly. Maybe with any luck, Alan and the other students would be on lunch break and be outside. It was Alan’s twelfth birthday after all, and this would be the best present since they could not arrive in person._

_“On approach to the school!” Virgil called out, much to the redhead’s delight._

**_BOOM! FIZZLE! POP!_ **

_The middle Tracy yanked back on the controls as a series of colorful explosions flew out of one of the school wings, followed by billowing smoke. “What in the world was that?!”_

_Gordon’s eyes widen as he listened to his father contact the school, asking if assistance was needed. When his brother began the landing procedures, the twenty-year-old grinned. Looked like they would be seeing Alan today after all! Well, provided the kid was not part of that explosion and was okay._

_It did not take long for them to handle the unexpected situation. Upon touching down, they quickly gathered up their gear for a fire situation and put out the flames. Once the scene was secure, the group gathered in front of the Headmaster, as Jeff discussed what caused the explosion._

_“You mean who. That would be these two troublemakers,” the Headmaster responded, looking down at the two students he held by the back of their uniforms, both giving the rescuers small waves. “Thankfully, there were no injuries, but I will be speaking to their parents about… new placement.”_

_Standing before them, skin blackened with soot and hair wild, were none other than Alan and Fermat. Only one of them looked the least bit apologetic, while Alan had a wild look in his cerulean eyes, a toothy grin plastered on his face._

_If Virgil had not pulled him away, Gordon would have doubled over with laughter at the outright pleased look on his younger brother’s face._

_“What excuse do you have, young man?” Jeff questioned, staring down at the youngest Tracy through his tinted helmet._

_“I wanted to make fireworks for our science project,” Alan responded, still grinning._

_“And what went wrong?” Scott asked, stepping forward. Gordon could hear the forced restraint in his eldest brother’s voice. Scott, like the rest of them, was trying not to laugh._

_The youngster scratched his chin, looking thoughtful for a few anxious moments. Finally, he grinned. “ **Way** too much boom. Not enough pizzazz,” he stated, adding emphasis with jazz hands. He glanced at Fermat. “We need to adjust the formula, right?”_

_“Uh, r-right,” Fermat responded. “T-Though, we were su-supposed to be m-making st-stink bo-bombs.”_

_“Well, they do stink! Stinky fireworks! We’re geniuses! High five!”_

_The Headmaster looked absolutely exasperated. “This is the kind of ridiculousness that I’ve been putting up with since this one got here. Tracy, how do you get fireworks from a stink bomb?!”_

_He smirked. “Lots of determination and Pure Tracy Stubbornness!”_

_At that statement, Gordon could barely handle any more. Thankfully, Scott came to his rescue. “Uh, s-sir, we’re going to let you handle this one,” Scott stated, quickly leading his two younger brothers back to Thunderbird Two. As soon as the hatch closed, the three of them completely lost it._

_Helmets on the ground, they had to wipe away tears of mirth from their faces. None could make eye contact with each other lest they start up again, which happened several times._

_It was nearly fifteen minutes before Jeff joined them, looking fairly frustrated as he took off his helmet. “That boy, I swear.”_

_“Aw, come on, Dad! You have to admit that was hilarious!” Gordon argued, noticing his father’s lip twitching into a smile._

_“It is. That’s why I’m so darn angry!” he laughed. “He’s lucky he didn’t blow himself up in the process, but that look on his face… Fireworks from a stink bomb! Ugh! Damn Tracy Stubbornness!”_

_That just sent the brothers back into a fit of immature giggles. Oh, they knew that Alan would get a proper scolding later on, but for right now, the laughter was enough. It was a birthday none would forget._

**E** **N** **D F** **LASHBAC** **K**

Ah, those were the good days. Jeff had let Alan have it once he would of uniform and in the proper state of mind. Naturally, his brothers _never_ let him live it down. Every time they saw Alan, they had to bring it up, especially around his birthday or whenever there was a firework display anywhere in the world.

Glancing over to his father, Gordon moved off to the side and pulled his arm from the exo-skeleton – once more trying to contact his only younger brother. “Little bro, if you can hear us, send out a signal. We need to know that you’re still... still alive, Sprout. You’re giving everyone a sick feeling. We can’t lose you, kid. We just can’t. I don’t think we’d survive. Not without your goofiness, troublemaking skills, and being my partner in crimes against Scott.

“I know I made you mad by dying your hair red, but I honestly thought it’d be a harmless prank. It was supposed to wash right out! Honest! I did feel guilty at mixing it up with permanent. And, yeah, I’m mad about my scuba gear, but honestly, if you came back to us, I don’t care about my gear. I can get new ones. Perks of being rich. Though, it’d be great to have the original back.”

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes a little. “Alan, _please_ respond. Do something, anything! Let us know that you’re still alive… Please…”

“Gordon! Scott’s on his way! When he gets here, we’re heading out!” his father called over.

“Got it!” Turning back to his watch, he sighed. “You heard the man. Gotta get going so we can find all of you. Be safe, Alan. If you die here, I’ll... Well, I don’t know what I’ll do.” He turned off his link and returned his arm to the exo-skeleton.

“ _Gordon, I’m going to keep trying._ ”

The redhead winced slightly, hearing his older brother’s voice. “You could hear all that, huh?”

“ _The signals relay through Thunderbird Five, remember? Don’t worry, no one else did. I’ve set up an automated message for him. Told him to boost his signal and get word out to us as soon as possible,_ ” John responded, his small holo-form appearing in the air in front of Gordon from his watch. “ _I’m going to keep trying. If he’s alive, he’ll do everything he can to reach us. PTS, remember? Combine that with Pure Alan Stubbornness, and something will come up. Or, if anyone else is with him, they can try to boost the signal themselves. Either way..._ ”

“Yeah. Just... keep trying.”

“ _F.A.B._ ”

Gordon sighed and looked over at his closest older brother’s helmeted head. “Hey, Virge, are we rolling yet? Why aren’t you in your suit?”

“Scott is a block away. He has Fermat with him. I need to look him over and check for signs of a concussion,” the medic responded.

Gordon frowned. “The kid gonna be okay?”

“Doesn’t sound too serious. More worried about his mental state and his lungs. You know how worked up he gets,” Virgil said. “I’m just hoping I don’t have to sedate him. The commotion and bad air aren’t doing Fermat any favors.”

“No kidding,” the redhead said, shaking his head. “So, are we waiting on you before heading out?”

 “I’ll take care of Fermat and then follow with one of the excavator pods and my exo-skeleton. I don’t know if we’ll be able to use the excavator, but I’m bringing it just in case,” Virgil stated, walking over to him, his eyes going over the suit to make sure that the robotic arms and legs fitted over Gordon’s body properly. “Now, I know you aren’t used to using these, so you’re going to have to be careful. Remember the warning light. If the object is too heavy, forget trying to pick it up or you’ll end up with a crushed arm. Mind where you step, an-”

“I got it, I got it. Stop being a worrywart,” he muttered.

“Don’t start, little brother.”

“Are you calling me little because I’m short?!” the redhead gasped in mock shock.

“No... Wait a minute, I’m shorter than you!”

“So what, jerk!”

“I’m not a jerk! You’re taller than me by an inch! Alan’s shorter by an inch! We short guys gotta stick together!” Virgil argued back.

“Speak for yourself, shortstop!”

“Ugh, I swear!”

From the side, Jeff watched his sons for a moment before checking over his suit. Virgil had already given him the safety instructions, which he already knew, given that he had helped Brains design the darn things. Like his second youngest, he wanted to get going. If only Scott would hurry!

Finally spotting his eldest waving to them as he led a rather large group out of the streets, the widowed man sighed with relief.

Scott soon joined them, passing Fermat over to Virgil before reporting to his father. “The group just got larger as we walked. They were coming out of everywhere, just desperate to get out of there. People helping each other. You don’t see that too often anymore. Look at them all,” he said, gesturing at the hundreds of people who had followed him out of the danger zone.

Jeff nodded, warmth filling his heart at this amazing view. Scott was right about that. It had been a long time since he had seen so many strangers caked in grit, dust, and blood helping one another. Coming together in a time of utter grief to help your fellow man and woman. It truly was a moment that he would never forget.

“Suit up, Scott. We need to get to the danger zone.”

“From a signal I picked up, it’s now called Ground Zero _apparently_ ,” Scott responded as he finished fixing the suit to his body, giving it a couple test grabs to make sure it was fully functional.

Jeff nodded in understanding. “International Rescue! Move out!”

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/11 – 11:15 a.m. EST _

**Ground Zero**

Walking up to the earliest part of the rubble about a block and a half away from where the buildings once stood, they already found bodies, crushed by debris. People that had been fleeing who had not stood a chance against the raining hell. Their last moments in life filled with utter fear and then nothing. Swallowed up by the eternal sleep.

The closer they came to the remains of the Towers, the more they found. Cars crushed, an abandoned stroller, a walker, a wheelchair. Smashed rescue vehicles, including a firetruck with the cab beaten into nothing, leaving it little more than a wreckage of twisted metal. A tragic shell of what once had been a life-saving vehicle.

Gordon had opened his mouth a few times, but the words would not come. There was nothing that could describe such carnage. Such needless death, and for what? There was no need for such cruelty against innocents! This was not a war zone! This place should never have been targeted. So many years of peace thrown away!

He could feel the rage boiling within him once more. This fury that could barely be contained. Somehow, he managed to keep a lid on it, though his fists trembled. At least Fermat was still alive and healthy. That much he could be grateful for. Brains would not lose his son.

If only the same could be said for the Tracys. There had always been six of them after Lucille’s death. If they lost another one… Gordon did not want to think about it. Focusing his gaze on the ground in front of him, he sidestepped what looked like part of the plane wreckage, and kept walking.

Beside him, his eldest brother kept his blue eyes alert and focused. Scott, like Virgil, would not give in to his emotions. He was furious, anxious, fearful, and sorrowful, all rolled into one. Yet, with years of experience, he managed to keep his composure. There was a reason why his father had named him Field Commander whenever Jeff did not join them on a mission.

Going back into the destruction had been the last thing Scott had wanted to do. The settling dust and small debris where he had found Fermat had been enough. That had been three blocks away from the heart of the disaster. Now, he was having to contemplate facing more than just a piece of it. The thought of being on the ground in such a tragedy was daunting. Today, Scott knew he was about to walk into something beyond his imagination. Like always, he would handle it and do whatever was asked of him. Leave the nightmares for later.

Dark blue eyes snapped over to an odd shape in the dist. Reaching down, he stopped and picked up the item with his grappling arm. Removing his opposite arm from the suit, he dusted off the object, his heart falling.

A fireman’s helmet with a big crack through the top.

Silently, he looked around for the person it belonged to, but there were no firefighter bodies anywhere near. Either that meant the person had been carried away already, or they had escaped the destruction. He hoped for the latter.

Jeff looked at his son for a moment, and then down at the helmet. A pained expression crossed his face, though he knew it could not be seen. How many rescue personnel had been murdered in this disaster? Unsuspecting of what was coming, how many ventured into the buildings to battle the blazes and rescue people?

It stood to reason that none had any idea they were walking into their deaths. Innocents who had gone in trying to save lives instead lost theirs alongside so many others.

If only not for that storm… They might have at least made it before the North Tower collapsed for sure, but they still would have missed the South. Missed Alan…

Straightening, he cleared his throat. The time for such emotions was over. “Let’s keep going. We’re almost there.”

Scott nodded, following behind his father after he set the helmet back down. How he wished he could have been of some use with Thunderbird One, yet knew that if either Thunderbird attempted to lift away the rubble, more people could be killed. If any had survived at all. No, they would not be able to do any heavy lifting until after hope ran out.

Finally coming upon the towering rubble, the Tracys had to pause. While they had seen such disasters before, none had been of this magnitude. The twisted beams, broken pillars, and blocks of concrete formed a pile of almost fifteen, twenties stories in height. It not for the ants – that they quickly realized were firefighters and rescue personnel forming bucket lines – the pile would not have looked so daunting.

Rescuers were dwarfed by the massive mound, looking like marionets on a model set. Only, this was reality, not some set created in a studio.

The sheer number of people still trapped beat the previous year’s landslide in Malaysia by hundreds. No, this was by far the worse mission they would ever have to complete. The hardest. This was personal.

“Well, you boys certainly took long enough,” a dust-covered firefighter muttered with a glare in their direction. Despite his low voice, the helmets of the International Rescue crew contained strong microphones for picking up voices. Unfortunately for the fireman, they all had theirs turned to the highest settings to listen for trapped victims.

“We were unable to leave our base due to a severe storm,” Jeff responded, glaring at the man through his tinted visor. “The bay doors were blocked and we had to clear them away to get the Thunderbirds out. We were grounded. We also had to take it slow over the States, as people are in a panic. A few took pot shots at us.”

“Hmph.” The man turned away from them and went back to grabbing the next bit of rubble that was sent his way down the line of rescue workers.

Gordon looked at his father, a frown on his face. He did not have to voice his opinion on the matter. It was clear that they were blaming them for so much death because they had not arrived on time. How were they supposed to have known the Towers would have collapsed? This was only supposed to have been a rescue, not a recovery effort. Recovery was not their area of expertise, but as long as there was a chance that someone might still be alive, they would remain until dismissed.

The patriarch knew what his second youngest was feeling. Refusing to let feelings of despair take control of his mind, he walked towards a group and asked where they would be needed. Upon being told that several groups were about to head up into the rubble, Jeff nodded and split up his boys. Scott went with one group, Gordon with another, and himself with the third. He then contacted Virgil, telling him to remain with the ground crews and to help out where needed. That when the time came, he would be piloting the excavation pod.

At their responses of ‘F.A.B’, the group dispersed, going to their respective groups around the mass of destruction.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/11 – 3:00 p.m. EST _

**Ground Zero, Gordon**

Walking amongst the rubble of the once proud Twin Towers, the former jewels of New York City, Gordon Cooper Tracy felt misery welling up in him once more. However, unlike last time, he refused to allow himself to break down. No, he had to remain strong. That was what Alan would have wanted. Alan had always hated his brothers being upset about one thing or another. He and his younger brother were similar in that. Neither wanted their family to be unhappy. That was one reason why when they got together, pranks on the Island skyrocketed, much to the annoyance of their victims. Especially Scott, as he was their primary target.

Would he ever be able to pull a prank again? The copper-haired man was not quite sure. How could life go on at Tracy Island if their little heart was gone?

From the moment Alan had been born, the family dynamic had changed. With Alan being so much younger than them had been both a blessing and a curse for the Tracy brothers.

Playing games with a toddler who always wanted to join in with the big boys had been fairly annoying. They would either have to go play where Alan could not find them, or change the aspects of the game to make it Alan-friendly.

Then again, the amount of mischief they would get into… Gordon would use Alan to get into the cookie jar as he knew the family baby would not get into trouble as much as they would have. Not by his family, though.

Alan had caused quite a few non-family troubles growing up. His young age made him a prime target for those who wanted Jeff’s money or for paparazzi. More than once Alan had nearly been stolen out of their front yard by a stranger. Especially after Lucille Tracy’s death.

That was one big factor why Jeff had moved the family from their original home to Tracy Island; to protect Alan. It was only when Alan neared high school age did his father send him away to boarding school for his final years of junior high with Fermat. The young Tracy going stir crazy being trapped on the Island all the time and getting into mischief, especially with the Thunderbirds. Thunderbirds One and Three especially, though there was the time he stowed away in Thunderbird Two on a rescue…

Gordon always chalked it up to Alan being an adrenaline junkie, since he would always go after the fastest ships in their arsenal. The only reason he had been on board Thunderbird Two that day was because he had not been quick enough to sneak into Scott’s ship without the elder Tracy knowing he was there.

Ah, Alan. What he would give to see his brother’s mischievous smile and twinkle in his blue eyes. Especially after blowing up a science lab attempting to make fireworks out of a stink bomb with surprising results. It was a memory that always made Gordon laugh the hardest.

Even when the group had left the school that day, Gordon and Virgil had not been able to keep their faces straight. They had all lost it again when their father even started laughing again from the safety of his chair on Thunderbird Two. He had been so mad at Alan that day, but going over the footage of the ‘rescue’, no one could keep a straight face.

When Jeff had given Alan a talking to and ripped him a new one, the brothers had remained quiet. They remained quiet when Alan and Fermat were transferred to a new school even further from home, but it was the only one who welcomed them and their… explosive exploits.

It was the move to Wharton Academy that put a huge strain in the family bonds, as the Tracys could not visit as often as they used to. It was just too much trouble, given what they did for a living. It was around that time that Alan started pulling further away from them too, and they allowed it to happen.

Whether on purpose or accident, they had pushed away their baby, and now they had quite possibly lost him forever.

It was only during that Spring Break did they realize how much they had missed Alan growing up. How much he had changed. How much he had grown in both body and mind. How many demons he held. His fears that still reigned from ten years prior, that he had hidden from them as he grew older.

His Cleithrophobia – fear of being trapped – and Frigophobia – fear of the cold. Learning of the fears certainly explained why Alan always skirted around going to the walk-in deep freezer. Why nothing could keep him away from the Island during Winter Break, and why he loathed having to go back while there was still snow in Massachusetts.

The Hood had used these fears to torment Alan, sending the normally strong-willed teenager into a panic as punishment for snapping Thunderbird Two’s guidance processor. Gordon knew that Alan thought he was doing what was right, but the punishment his youngest brother had sustained had washed that thought out of his mind forever. What the Hood had done to him had been exceedingly cruel and unfair.

‘ _No, Gordon, stop this right now. You need to be like Virgil and stop thinking about Alan. How scared he must be, if he’s still… No good is going to come of it. Not now at least. Spend your energy on finding people,_ ’ he ordered himself furiously.

“You there. The dogs have found something!”

Gordon snapped to attention at the statement and he began to dig, lifting heavier bits of rubble that the others could not thanks to his exo-skeleton. He found himself hoping, praying, that whoever they found was still alive.

He carefully moved the heavier pieces behind him, hoping he was not burying someone else in the process. He could feel the ground beneath him shifting slightly, and reangled himself as he picked at a steel beam, lifting it off the body that he now saw was cut in half. What was left of the poor being was a mangled mess of shredded skin and crushed features.

“Look out!”

Gordon didn’t have a chance to respond to the voice as the ground opened beneath him, swallowing him into a void pocket.


	4. Bittersweet Memories

_ 9/11 – 3:03 p.m. EST _

**Ground Zero, Jeff**

Jeff frowned as he picked up another slab of concrete with the exo-skeleton arms, his blue eyes becoming distant at the dismembered leg he had found. Turning to the nearest rescue personnel, he pointed it out.

As he waited for them to tag and bag the leg, he scanned the area. Given that he was on a smoldering pile of death, it was not easy. Check that – it was impossible. Their scanners were not made to go through such debris. They had never responded to a building collapse of this magnitude – they were there before the building went down and had already gotten everyone out. This time, though... This time they had been too late.

There were over two thousand people down there. Possibly more. How many were dead? Better yet, how many were still alive? Where the hell were they?

There was hope, though, as survivors had been found. The first a few hours before, and then a group of twelve found in a North Tower stairwell that had remained upright. Each time, Jeff had gotten his hopes up that it was his child being found, but those hopes were always dashed quickly.

In just one day, the Island of Manhattan would now be forever tainted. Once considered their second residence, due to Tracy Enterprises, would now be forever ruined. Tarnished by bad memories just as France had been by a deadly avalanche that had claimed Lucille. If Alan was not found alive, Jeff was not sure how easily he could come back. Would he be able to come near the city at all?

As he watched the leg be bagged, Jeff found himself thinking back to just two weeks prior, when he had been in a video message with his youngest. If only he had known the truth behind why Alan had wanted to go, he could have seen him one more time in the flesh. He could have stood by his side as his son was awarded first place for an engine design. He would have been there for his son.

**F** **LASHBAC** **K**

_Jeff had just finished up some paperwork from the latest mission and was about to go down to the kitchen for a snack when his monitor went off. Grumbling a bit about timing, he checked who it was and immediately grinned. “Alan! Hey, kiddo! A bit early for you to be calling, isn’t it? Usually I’m the one trying to get ahold of you!”_

_The teenager laughed. “_ Hey, Dad! Guess what! I got into that two-week program where we are going to be studying in New York City and visiting various sights! I get three credits for it too, so that’s going to help me with catching up on my grades. Not that I need the help anymore... _” Alan responded through the holo-projector, looking pleased as punch in his holo-form._

_Jeff raised his eyebrow as he looked at his son’s cheerful expression. “You seem rather excited to be going to New York City. Usually whenever you go with one of us, you’re bored to tears and just stay in the penthouse playing video games. What gives?”_

_“_ Well, yeah, but you guys are always in business meetings when you go. This one is going to be, uh, educational. _” Alan grinned cheekily. “_ Science convention that Fermat’s entering and all that. _”_

_The patriarch knew his son well enough that he was full of crap. Alan was not a fan of educational things unless they furthered his International Rescue training or dealt with space. “Okay, spill. Why do you actually want to go?”_

_Alan laughed, though something in his eyes made Jeff question his true motives still. “_ Ah. Well... Fermat really wanted to go, and he didn’t want to go alone with the others chosen. I was going to back out and give the slot to someone else, but... Fermat’s one of my best friends, and he really wants to do this. Who am I to deny him? Plus, they have a really cool observatory out there. _”_

_The Tracy patriarch blinked for a moment before smiling. “You’re giving up your fall break AND your training for this? Are you sure?” So much for his plan on starting Alan on his training for Thunderbird Three! Of course, it was just going to be simulations and like, not the real deal – not until the winter break when he had more time to work with him._

_“_ Absolutely. I know, the guys will be so devastated that I won’t be there to show them up again, _” the young blond laughed. “_ But this is something I want to do. Just tell the guys that I got detention or something stupid, but not too stupid or involving ducks. _”_

_Jeff raised an eyebrow. “ **Ducks**?”_

_“_ It’s a long story, but it involves a sandwich and a very angry flock of ducks. Or geese. Some kind of bird. _”_

_“I am wanting to hear this story and I happen to have the time.” Jeff grinned as he listened to his son go on and on about a random encounter with a flock of birds while eating a sandwich. Apparently, the birds decided they wanted his food and had gone on the attack, chasing him around the courtyard of the Academy for a good five minutes before he was able to get inside the dormitory building. Even then, no one could leave the dormitory due to the menaces for almost an hour._

_Alan scowled at his father’s loud laughter. “_ Just don’t tell them, okay? It was embarrassing enough. Freakin’ birds. Dad. Dad! Dad, stop laughing! _”_

_Jeff could not help it. The situation was simply too funny. His poor son! “You poor thing! You didn’t get bit, did you?”_

_“_ Awe, come on! Ugh. _” Yet, the youngest could not stop laughing either at the absurdity of the situation. “_ Darn things have it out for me. Bad thing is, it’s happened before. Awe, come on! Stop laughing! _”_

_The grumbling went on for another few minutes, and Jeff glanced over at his other Island-bound sons, who had returned from a mission and had heard the entire thing. Seeing them falling all over each other in silent, stifled laughter was enough to set him off again._

_Alan raised an eyebrow. “_ Is Brains there with you or something? _”_

_“Yeah,” Jeff quickly stated, not wanting his son to be further embarrassed with the knowledge that his brothers had heard **everything**. “He’s doing some cleanup before the boys get back.”_

_“_ Oh, good. I saw the mission on TV and all that. Scott almost got his butt whooped in that downdraft it looked like. Anyway, so, just tell them I got detention. Or make something up. _”_

_Jeff shook his head, chuckling at the looks his older sons were giving each other at the fact that Alan was not wanting to talk ‘shop’ about the mission like he usually did. “If you want.”_

_“_ Besides, the Toys R Us out there has model Thunderbirds, and I thought it’d be funny to get the guys their own mini copies for Christmas. Gordon would have a blast playing with a ‘Four in the bathtub and pool. Gonna get him the remote-controlled one. _” Alan grinned at his father’s knowing snort. “_ So, can I go? _”_

_“Yeah, you can go. I’ll wire you some money. Have fun! Check in every night with one of us, got it? Watch out for ducks!”_

_Alan cocked an eyebrow. “_ Will do! I’ll even get you a picture from on top the tallest buildings in the world! Then again, you probably already got some of those. Bye, Dad! _”_

_As the holo-link closed, Jeff looked over at his other sons, all of whom were barely standing by their portraits, save for John, who was visiting in his holo-form. None were able to hide the amusement on their faces. “Don’t you **dare** say a word to him that you heard any of that.”_

_Gordon grinned. “Oh, I’m looking forward to a little Thunderbird Four,” he laughed, the others nodding in agreement. “But, ducks? Seriously? That kid gets into a ridiculous amount of trouble, but I never thought that birds would have it in for him! Next care package after Fall Break, we all have to send him some kind of bird!”_

_“Oh, I’m so in,” Scott snorted, while his younger siblings nodded in eager agreement._

_“Probably some sandwich shop gift cards too!” John piped up._

_“And a copy of Alfred Hitchcock’s ‘The Birds’!” Virgil added._

_“You boys are cruel…” He frowned a moment before smirking. “Send him a rubber duck from me.” Laughing, Jeff smiled at them. “Go get some rest. All of you. It’s been a busy day.”_

**E** **N** **D F** **LASHBAC** **K**

“I never should have let him go,” Jeff murmured as he picked up another piece of rubble and carefully setting it aside. “I should have asked the real reason he wanted to go. Shouldn’t have gotten distracted by the bird story… Why did I not notice when I failed to get a permission slip? Only the itinerary?”

He frowned a moment, suddenly realizing the reason why Brains had given him an odd look a few days prior when Jeff had stated he would not be attending the science convention in New York. Yet, not even Brains had elaborated on the fact that Jeff did not want to go, though he must have known that Alan had entered. Brains had been there when Alan and Fermat took first place. He had been there when the boys had won their trophy. Not Jeff.

How much had he missed out on over the years? The school concerts, the track and field competitions, the conventions? Alan was leading a whole other life, and for some reason had cut all them out of it.

As soon as the tropical storm had ended, he had planned on flying Tracy One out to speak to his son on the manner. To scold him. Yell. Demand answers. It all seemed so meaningless now, yet it ebbed away at him. He wanted the answers. Why he had been pushed away.

Had he ever attended _any_ of Alan’s events before the subroutine had been put in place? As far as he was aware, no. He had missed everything, whether by rescue work or his company. Maybe Alan had… Maybe his theory was correct – that Alan had implanted the subroutine to prevent himself any more heartache when his family did not show up.

How many events did the family have to miss for Alan to do such a thing? How many physical meetings with the Headmaster about the troubles his son faced did Jeff opt out of? How many times had Jeff ignore a report of bullying, thinking that they were false?

How long had he been accidentally pushing Alan away?

“ _Thunderbird down!_ ” John’s voice rang out over the radio, startling him from his thoughts.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/11 – 3:05 p.m. EST _

**Ground Zero, Scott**

Scott felt sick as he walked amongst the broken glass and rubble. Twisted steel beams and smoldering fires. If the Firefly was not so heavy, they would have brought it up on the rubble to help contain the flames. Then again, the foam would suffocate any survivors, so that was out. Just like most of their equipment. Not even the Mole could be used because of the amount of people within the Pile.

Frustrated at how most of their equipment had been rendered useless, Scott picked at another piece of rubble, grimacing at the blood stains. Following the trail, he wanted to wretch as he came upon a severed head of a young blonde female, more than likely in her early twenties. Calling it out, he moved on, wanting to get away from the sight as soon as possible.

What if the next dismembered or crushed body they came across was his baby brother?

Scott had tried several times to not think about it, yet the thoughts still fought their way to the surface, breaking his resolve time and time again. It had already been a long day, one that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

So much pointless death. So many innocents murdered, now lying in a mass grave below his feet. His brother among them. Little Alan, the bravest of them all. While the rest of them had gone on countless missions before, they had always had another Tracy by their side. Save for Tin-Tin and Fermat, Alan had mostly been alone. Three kids who never should have had to stand on their own, held their ground against the Hood and his goons.

He had been forced into the role of a leader the day the Hood had invaded their island home. There had been so many times that day he had nearly died, yet he had survived out of stubbornness. Alan was strong. He was brave. Scott had thought the youngest Tracy invincible.

Yet, here they were. Alan was gone. The invincible Tracy was no more.

Coughing slightly, he removed his arm from the exo-skeleton and switched out his air filter, the second one today. Looking at the removed one, he grimaced at how filthy it was. Stuffing it in his pocket for disposal later, he returned to his duty.

“Hey. Here, I haven’t seen you take a break since we started.”

The brown-haired Tracy glanced beside him as a police officer held out a bottle of water to him. Had it really been so long since he had taken a break? He had been so desperate to find survivors – find his brother – that he had completely forgotten to rest from time to time.

Removing his arm from the suit again, he lifted off his helmet and smiled at the man before coughing on the air.

“Yeah, the air quality isn’t the greatest. You International Rescue folk have great ways to filter out the air,” the man responded somewhat bitterly as he adjusted his cloth face mask.

Scott frowned, but did not take it to heart. “We try experimental things such as these air masks before we put them out to the general public. We’d rather take the risk of something going wrong before it happened to someone else,” he said simply, holding out his hand to take the water bottle, downing it fairly quickly upon receiving it.

“Hm. Suppose that makes sense. Sorry for snapping at you. It’s just all that’s going on. I have friends that were in the building. Partners. Brothers and sisters.” The officer looked towards the wreckage.

“I know exactly how you feel.”

“How could you?” he asked, looking at him.

Scott glanced around for a moment and, upon seeing they were a bit further apart from the rest of the group, responded to him. “My little brother was in the South Tower when it collapsed.” He could feel the man’s startled gaze upon him, but he refused to elaborate. “Thanks for the water. We’d best be getting back to work.”

“ _Thunderbird down!_ ”

Scott’s eyes widened, and he put his helmet back on. “Thunderbird Five? What’s happened? Who’s down?”

“ _Uh, me, actually,_ ” Gordon’s voice interjected. “ _A few pipes got stuck in the exo-skeleton foot and I can’t get them loose. My leg’s pretty pinched._ ”

“Oh, Gordon...” Scott shook his head. “Ping your location and the nearest one can come get you.”

“ _Yeah, yeah, I know._ ”

“ _I’m the closest one to you, Gordo. Just hang on and I’ll be there. Don’t damage my suit more!_ ” Virgil warned.

“ _F.A.B._ ”

Scott shook his head, knowing that Virgil would get their younger brother out. He was too far away to be of any use to either of them, so he returned to picking up slabs of concrete.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/11 – 3:30 p.m. EST _

**Ground Zero, Virgil**

Virgil shook his head as he left the outskirts of the rubble towards his brother’s location, ignoring the orders for all rescue personnel near the 7 World Trade Center, a building that was still burning, to evacuate the area. He had thought about bringing the Firefly to come cool the building off, but did not have the time to go back to Thunderbird Two just yet. No, he had to get Gordon’s sorry stuck butt out of the rubble.

He swore that if Gordon damaged his exo-skeleton, he would get quite the scolding from both Virgil and Brains. Those suits were very hardy, and to have one of them damaged meant that Gordon had not listened to warnings at all.

Walking over the debris and into the pile. Pile; such a simple word to describe the mess he walked through. This mass grave. Land of the dead. The final resting place. Well, maybe not _final_ , but close enough to it.

Where was his little Sprout, anyway? John said he had been in the elevator in the South Tower, the pile Gordon was searching. The copper-haired Tracy had not reported finding anyone alive yet, and they still had no signal from Alan to tell them that he was still alive.

No. Do not even say his name. Do not even _think_ it. All that name brought with it was an ache in his heart. Even the nickname ‘Sprout’ made his throat clench as he thought of the brussels sprout loving Tracy. He had earned that nickname long ago when he had been the only Tracy son who absolutely adored the round greens, something that Virgil never understood.

**F** **LASHBAC** **K**

_“You know you’re absolutely disgusting, right?” Virgil questioned, looking at his sixteen-year-old brother in horror. “Scott, tell him to take his filthy habits away from us decent folk!”_

_The eldest Tracy brother looked up from his plane magazine, eyebrow raised. “I’m staying out of this one. You know it’s a losing battle. That kid and brussels sprouts go hand in hand.”_

_“Scott!” the middle brother whined. “Make him go away!”_

_Alan raised an eyebrow as he popped another brussels sprout from his bowl into the air and caught it in his mouth. “Wht? Ferf goof!”_

_“Don’t talk with your mouth full! Oh, gross, you spat some on me!” The family doctor jumped away from him, brushing off the spat-up greens from his shirt. “Have some dignity, would you? You’re such a child!”_

_Swallowing, the younger blond grinned. “I **am** a child, Virge. Did your fancy medical books teach you nothing about the stages of life? I’m horrified. You’d best be going back to school. Gotta sharpen up your edumacation!”_

_The corners of Scott’s mouth twitched as he glanced up over his magazine. “Did you just say ‘edumacation’? Really, Alan? Do they teach you nothing at Wharton’s?”_

_The teenager grinned and tossed the last one into the air. Opening his mouth to catch it, he was surprised when his teeth connected with flesh instead. Pulling back, he looked at Gordon in horror. “What was that for?!”_

_Gordon grinned, not at all fazed by the bite as he held the green ball over Alan’s head. “Your reflexes are slow, little bro.”_

_Alan scowled and set the bowl down, reaching up to try and grab his snack. Gordon, however, held it even higher by a good two inches, given he was taller. “Gordon! Give it back!” He jumped after the redhead that danced away from him._

_Virgil groaned, watching the duo. “Seriously? Scott, are you seeing this?”_

_Scott merely fluffed his magazine and paid no attention. It was just another typical day. As long as he did not get splashed, he could care less._

_“Poor little Sprout! Can’t catch me!” Gordon grinned as he waved the object above him. “This is payback for turning off the hot water in my shower earlier!”_

_“I told you, I didn’t do that!” the blond argued._

_“Funny how you’re yelling at me to hurry up and then all of the sudden bam! All the hot water is suddenly gone!” Gordon accused._

_Virgil raised an eyebrow. “That was Alan? That happened to me too a couple days ago! I thought the computer sensors had gone haywire!” He walked over to Gordon. “Here, toss it here. Keep away.”_

_“I didn’t do it! Now give me back my snack! No! Don’t team up! Ugh! **SCOTT!** ” Alan looked to his eldest brother for support, but the brunette ignored him, flipping to another page. Seeing that his family had all turned against him, he scowled and cracked his knuckles, flexing his toes in his flipflops. With a primal roar, he charged and tackled his next two unsuspecting older brothers into the diving pool._

_It was quite the water battle, with the three of them fighting for the vegetable, but it was Alan that came out on top, grinning brightly as he ate his now chlorine-flavored snack, much to the rest of his family’s absolute disgust._

**E** **N** **D F** **LASHBAC** **K**

Many a times did the youngest Tracy steal from his brothers’ dinner plates whenever the disgusting food was brought out. Who were his older brothers to deny him the food that he loved but they despised? The various combinations Alan would have with the vegetables always left Virgil feeling queasy – from various condiments to chocolate covered. Morning, noon, and night. The kid could never quite get enough of the delectable delights, as he put it.

Simply _disgusting_.

Finally reaching the group of volunteers that Gordon had been with, he was amused to find that they had gotten Gordon almost completely out, save for one leg that was stuck. “Ah, Gordon. I see you’ve gotten yourself into a pickle yet again.”

“Shut it, Virge,” Gordon argued back, looking up at him. “Just get me out of here so I can get back to searching.”

“Patience, grasshopper. I’ll get you out. Shouldn’t take too long. Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so... Leg’s kinda numb, but that’s about it.”

“Numb?! Which one?”

Gordon shot him a look. “The one that’s pinned, genius!”

“Charming as ever, I see.” Virgil shook his head and set about climbing out of his suit and carefully going down the hole with his brother, examining the trapped leg. It only took him a few moments to realize what the problem was, his eyes widening in alarm. “Well, that’s not good. Someone pass me the laser cutter!”

“What is it?” Gordon questioned, looking down at him as a firefighter passed down the device.

“Gordo, your leg is pinched off from above the knee. Small blessings, because you have a rod going through your lower leg,” the Tracy family medic explained, his voice and demeaner showing no-nonsense. He was in doctor mode. “I have to cut you out and then you’re going to the hospital immediately.”

Virgil turned on the laser cutter and went to work cutting the rod out of the rubble. It had gone through Gordon’s leg in an upward angle, right through the exo-skeleton’s exposed wires. The exo-leg was pretty much fried, this much he knew, so there was no point in bringing it back with them. He would have to cut him out of it, especially since it was the suit that was cutting off blood flow to his lower leg.

Gordon flinched at that revelation. He knew as soon as that rod was cut, and he was freed from the exo-skeleton, he would be in tremendous pain. That was something he was not interested in. “Do we have to?”

Virgil pierced his lips. “Don’t even start.”

The younger shut right up and simply listened to his brother cutting him free. This sucked majorly.

Virgil moved swiftly, and not too much time passed before he finished cutting the rod. Now he had to cut the suit carefully lest he burn his brother. “Don’t move unless you want me taking off your leg.”

“Don’t do that!” Gordon complained. “How would I swim?!”

Virgil rolled his eyes, but smiled. “Oh, you’d figure out a way, I’m sure.” He quickly tied a tourniquet around his brother’s upper leg, knowing that it would take no time at all for Gordon to get to a hospital emergency room. “Virgil to Thunderbird Two. I’m starting the cut of the exo-skeleton. Gordon has a rod going through his lower leg. Request immediate extraction.”

“ _F.A.B.,_ ” Jeff responded.

Virgil smiled, knowing his father was going to remotely fly Thunderbird Two towards them to pick up the pair, as they had been using the mighty Thunderbird to carry out survivors to the hospital as soon as they were freed. He would have called the craft in himself, but as he was currently busy fishing out his fish of a brother, he could not.

“Hey, we’ve been called off the Pile. It’s gotten too dangerous! A few surrounding structures are threatening to collapse, and a few other people have fallen through the rubble as well. The search is off for the night. Visibility is too low, and we are all ordered to be checked out,” a voice called down from above.

The brunette Tracy stiffened at that news. More danger? Building collapse? Could this day get any worse? “You go on ahead. I can get my partner out safely. I’ll ride out with him.”

“Affirmative. Good luck!”

Gordon frowned, watching his group walk away. “They left. Just like that.”

“Well, they know that we have better equipment than they do, and better training,” Virgil reasoned, though he was seething that not one of them stayed to help. Then again, who could blame them? From his readings, the air was getting toxic. It was good to call off the search for now. It was only going to get worse when Thunderbird Two hovered overhead.

“Guess it’s a good thing we have our helmets, huh?” the younger Tracy questioned, also looking at the readings in front of him. “Not quite as bad down here, though. Up there, though...”

“I know. We’ll be out of here soon enough.”

Gordon nodded a little, looking for something to occupy his time with. There was nothing around them but rubble and destruction. “Virge? Do you... Do you think there’s still a chance?”

“That there are other survivors? It’s been hours since anyone’s been found alive,” the medic responded simply, keeping his tone neutral as he continued the delicate process.

“There were hundreds of people still in the building. Where the hell are they?” he asked through gritted teeth. “How can they all be… dead?”

The older Tracy sighed, knowing exactly who his younger brother was talking about. However, he was not going to give in. “There are... bits and pieces everywhere. We may never find all the remains. I’m also betting as early as tomorrow they’ll be sending us away. That anyone survived trapped longer than a day would be a miracle. That includes...”

He shook his head. There was no possible way Alan had survived the collapse. Most of the survivors had been found in a stairwell, or had been able to call out on cell phones by now – though usually when those ‘survivors’ were found, they had already passed by the time rescue arrived. Not to mention the majority were found from the North Tower wreckage.

Gordon fixed him a hard stare. “Why won’t you say his name? I know you aren’t a coldhearted jackass, so why?” When Virgil failed to respond, the hothead prankster grew impatient. “Virgil, answer me. Why haven’t you said Alan’s name practically all day?” He could feel the pain in his leg increasing as the weight of the exo-skeleton was cut away, a bit of the suit catching the rod. “Ow! Careful!”

“Sorry.”

“The last time you shut down like this was when Mom died.”

Virgil stiffened. “Shut up.”

“Alan could still be alive, and you won’t even say his name!”

His grip on the tool tightened. “Gordon, shut up! You don’t know anything!”

“I know that I’m not going to give up on him!”

“Then you’re a fool! You’re going to be crushed and heartbroken when they find him and he’s nothing more than a dead, empty shell, more than likely mangled, with no life left in him! You’ll wish that they never found him at all!” Virgil snapped.

Gordon flinched at his brother’s tone, silence filling the air. He had not meant to cause his brother pain. He had merely let his emotions gain control over him again. He really needed to work on that. “Virge...”

“Don’t. Let’s just get you out of here and to the hospital to get that taken care of.” Virgil hated the memories that his brother had unwittingly brought up to the surface. He had been that little boy that had hoped beyond hope that his mother was still alive when they pulled her and Alan out of avalanche, but upon seeing her mangled self after she had been brought down in a body bag, he knew he had lost her. That hope was for the stupid.

He would apologize to Gordon later, of course. Right now, however, he was too angry. At Gordon. At himself. This whole situation. At Alan for getting into the situation in the first place. Lucille’s death had been Alan’s fault, too. If only Alan had not been wanting to look at some of the trees on the slope that day while sledding, their mother would not have been on that mountain at the moment of the avalanche. She would not have been swept away in the cascading snow. Just like if Scott had been able to hold onto her…

Deep down, Virgil knew that neither Alan nor Scott were to blame for what had happened. He knew this, yet the hurt and pain were still there. The situation of today only brought back the painful memories of the past with a cruel twist. He was on the brink of losing his cool, something that had not happened for a quite a long time. Over ten years at least.

Usually, he would sit at his piano and play a classical complicated song until all the negative emotion drained away from him. Today, however, that was not possible. Today, he felt just as useless as he had when his mother and brother had been swept away in the snow.

“I’m almost done, Gordon,” he said simply, looking up at him, eyes widening when he saw that his younger brother’s head had slumped forward. Looking for the source, he found that in his anger, he had mistakenly cut through the tourniquet. Using a rather foul word, he quickly reached into his side-pack for another. Working with unusual swiftness, he reapplied the tourniquet and finished cutting his brother out just as Thunderbird Two rumbled overhead, a pair of harnesses being dropped down from the main bay.

As the duo, minus one exo-skeletal leg that fell through the debris, were lifted up into the air, Virgil failed to register the cries for help from deep within the rubble.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/11 – 8:00 p.m. EST _

**Rosemont Hotel, Manhattan**

Scott sighed as he stepped into the room his baby brother had occupied only the night before, shared with Fermat. He had changed into civilian clothes that he had brought along just so he could put on something clean for a few hours to rest. His father had remained on Thunderbird Two with Virgil once they were given the word that Gordon would be fine after the blood transfusion and operation to remove the rod. Gordon now had titanium in his leg to hold his bone straight for it to heal. He would not be walking for quite a long time.

Virgil’s snap, however, had both Scott and his father concerned. Jeff had told Scott to go on to the hotel while he stayed with his middle son. Scott had protested, but Jeff stood firm stating this was something he had to do alone.

That was how Scott ended up in Fermat’s hotel room. Upon arriving, the brunette Tracy had been surprised by the large trophy displayed next to the TV stand. Upon closer inspection, his eyebrows shot into his hairline at the inscription.

_Alan Tracy and Fermat Hackenbacker_  
First Place   
Youth Science and Inventor’s Convention

Alan had entered into a science convention and won? When had Alan ever shown any interest in science? He had never been any good in the subject. As for inventing, the only thing that Scott had ever seen the teenager invent was a disgusting pickle and peanut butter sandwich, which was about the only thing that did not involve brussels sprouts.

Picking up a picture set by the trophy, he studied his younger brother’s happy expression as he held the trophy with Fermat while standing in front of what appeared to be some kind of engine.

Fermat had probably invented it. He was the future engineer of International Rescue, after all, if he chose so. Why was Alan’s name on the plaque, though? Scott could not quite figure that part out.

“How are you holding up, kiddo?” he questioned, finally looking over at the figure perched on the side of his bed staring at the floor. “Fermat?”

Fermat stared at the phone in his hands, the last picture he and his best friend had taken together just that morning. “It’s my fault.”

The brunette could hardly believe his ears. “How is this your fault? You didn’t pilot those planes into the Towers. You didn’t hijack anything!”

He shook his head. “I co-convinced A-Alan to e-enter his e-en-engine into the c-com-com… exhibition.”

Wait. What? No. Must not dwell on that just right then. “Oh... Fermat,” Scott sat down next to him, pulling the younger man close, mindful of his bandaged head. “Alan wanted to come. If he didn’t, he would have come back to the Island for training. You were more important to him. That’s just how he is.” He would ask him what exactly he meant by the engine later. Now was not the time.

Fermat sat there, clenching his fists as he tried to hold back the tears. His throat clenched, and his chest ached as he did his best to hold everything back. This wasn’t right. Alan never would have been in New York if not for him! He would have been fine and safe!

“Don’t hold back, kiddo. You’ll make yourself sick,” the elder Tracy responded softly, feeling the boy’s shoulder tremble. “It’s okay to cry. Now is as good a time as any.” Feeling the shift in Fermat’s position and the hitch, Scott closed his eyes. “This was not your fault. This is none of our faults. The people who hijacked those planes, they’re at fault. Not you, not me. We’ll find him...”

So many bodies had been found, only seventeen alive out of hundreds that had been in the Towers. Alan was somewhere down there, dead or alive. How were they going to find him? So far, those that had been found alive had been lucky. But this?

Hearing Fermat’s heart-wrenching sobs, Scott returned his attention to the young engineer. This was far from fair on him. On anyone. Rage boiled within him at the thought of his brother buried alive. Had that not already happened to him in the avalanche?

_“SCOTT!”_

His mother’s voice pierced through the veil once more, and he gasped at the sudden scream that existed only in his nightmares.

_“RUN, BOYS! RUN!”_

His father’s yell. His desperation for them to run. Jeff had picked up Gordon, while John had been helping Virgil, leaving Scott to take care of Lucille and Alan.

The thunderous snow crashing down. The grip on his mother’s hand lost – _gone_. Him being yanked backwards at the force.

_“DADDY!”_

Alan’s scream before the wave of snow overcame the duo. Haunting terror and acceptance in his mother’s eyes.

Shaking, he clenched his fists, willing the memories away. He could not allow himself to go back to that day. Not again.

His mother had died, buried within the snow, curled around her youngest son. Alan had suffered a dislocated arm, broken ribs, skull fracture, and hypothermia, but he had emerged from the snow alive. His mother, nothing but a husk. A broken shell, blackened and bruised with no warmth left.

No more hugs. No more kisses good night or good morning. No more mother.

Now, it looked like his youngest brother had finally been consumed by the wave.

Hot tears slipped down his cheeks without him quite realizing as he joined Fermat in sorrow and wishful thinking.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/11 – 9:30 p.m. EST _

**Thunderbird Two**

Jeff held his middle son close to his chest as Virgil finally let out his sobs, breaking down at last. The widower had known it was going to come at some point the moment he realized that Virgil had gone into robot-mode earlier that day. Whenever Virgil was truly bothered by something and had no outlet, he bottled it up. Compared the present to the past. Let rage and sorrow fuel him until he exploded.

This time, someone had been hurt because of it.

The single father blamed himself for this. If only he had stepped in sooner, told Virgil to collect himself or release his rage. Seeing any of his children cry broke his heart. It was rare that it happened, but when it did, Jeff tried to be there for them. To be the understanding father he had always wanted to be. He knew there were times when he was too tough on his boys, and others when he was not tough enough.

He needed to remain strong. He needed to be there for all his boys. Alan was lost, and while he may be found, it would more than likely not be alive. All Jeff could hope for was to bring his baby home, one way or another.

This time, he would not slip into a year-long grief that took him away from his boys. Not like what happened after his beloved wife perished. He would be there for all his children, no matter what the outcome. Never again would he shut himself away.

That year he had locked himself away, his boys had suffered the most. While Gordon, Scott, Virgil, and John had understood that their mother was gone, Alan had not understood where his mother was.

Virgil had not been very understanding of the injured child, having even yelled in his face that it was his fault. He had taken it back, of course, in time, yet Jeff knew his middle child still held some resentment in his heart, despite the passage of time. It was a wound that would never fully heal.

Like Virgil, Scott had blamed someone. Not Alan, but himself, for letting go, though it was more that Lucille had been ripped away by the snow. To this day, Jeff was not sure what brought his eldest out of his depression.

John and Gordon had found other ways to release their grief. Gordon became a stronger swimmer and eventually went to the Olympics, while John had taken up his parents’ passion of stargazing and space travel.

Seeing his sons move on slowly after their mother’s terrible accident had produced mixed feelings within the single father. So many times he had tried to bring himself about, for their sakes, and there were days where he was his usual self. Then he would go to sleep in an empty bed and reality crashed back around him.

If he lost Alan, or any of his sons, he was not sure if he would be able to bring himself back. He had always feared the possibility, and now it had become reality.

Holding Virgil until he calmed down was all Jeff could do to not break down himself.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/11 – 10:50 p.m. EST _

**Thunderbird Five**

John still grimaced as he remembered Virgil’s report on Gordon’s condition from a few hours earlier. Significant loss of blood. The rod had gone right through the bone and muscle. Gordon had many months of healing to go. The water baby of the family had been officially docked.

He knew that his father had taken Gordon to a specialty clinic, one of a few scattered about the country and world for when one of International Rescue’s team were injured and there was not time to get them back to the Island. Thankfully, these clinics were rarely used. It was a place of total secrecy, and it was a rare privilege to work there. Gordon would be fine, John knew. He had to be.

When his father messaged him stating that Gordon was going to recover perfectly, John switched his worries from the redhead to the next troublesome situation.

No, it was not Gordon that worried John the most at that moment. That honor was held by Virgil. He had heard his next-in-line brother over the frequency, just as he knew his father and Scott had heard as well.

The blond Tracy knew he should be down there helping out. He had even asked his father if he wanted the extra manpower, but had been denied, stating that he was more of a help as their eye in the sky. The second-oldest son had to agree, what with all the calls for help coming in from around the world. Many times John had to deny the help from International Rescue, as no one was available, and instead assist with finding help closer to the location of trouble.

“You have reached International Rescue. I’m afraid that we cannot leave our current rescu-” John began, only to be cut off.

“ _You call that a rescue! You all completely screwed up! All those people wouldn’t be trapped if you self-righteous, so-called heroes were faster! This is all your fault!_ ”

Ah, another complaint. He had been getting quite a few of those, too, with varying levels of abuse. “Sir, I’m sorry for the delay. The Thunderbirds were unable to lift off due to severe weather.”

“ _And I call bullshit on that! I’ve seen you people do rescues in horrid weather!_ ”

John pinched the bridge of his nose unhappily. This was going to be one of _those_ complaints. “As I said, sir, International Rescue hurried to get to New York as quickly as they possibly could. Thunderbird One was nearly shot out of the sky near our destination out of panic,” the astronaut half-lied. It had been a close call with weapons locked on, and thankfully the military had come to their senses upon realizing who it was. “We want to find as many people as we can far more than you know. Good day, sir.”

Ending the call, the twenty-seven-year-old sighed, wanting nothing more than to shut down communications with the outside world if only to have some time to sit and think. To be rid of his stoic self and show some emotion at last. Privacy was one thing John liked the most, and he received plenty of it up here on Thunderbird Five. Today, however, was another story entirely.

Ever since he had awoken to Alan’s frantic call and the news of what had happened down on Earth, John had been working nonstop. From redirecting what rescues he could to local help, to taking on calls for help from the city and Towers before the collapse. A few had called from within the Pile, but by the time rescuer workers got to them, they had already passed on, John staying with them on the line until the last breath. So many desperate people, his baby brother among them, though Alan had yet to make a sound.

Glancing over at the main group picture frame he held in the main control room that showed them all in their uniforms, John observed the faces of his brothers. The ever-vigilant Scott. The musically and artistically gifted Virgil. The prankster Gordon. The family baby, Alan. Twelve years younger than himself, Alan was the surprise baby that none of them had expected, least of all their parents.

To this day, the look of shock on his father’s face when Lucille Tracy announced she was pregnant again after seven years was something that John would never forget. His father had been merely drinking coffee while going over a stack of paperwork for the family business one morning at breakfast with them all when his mother had just dropped the ball without any warning.

**F** **LASHBAC** **K**

_“Jeff, we need to have a talk. Jefferson, put down your paper. Honey, are you even listening to me? You’re being ridiculous! Don’t you ignore me!”_

_Twelve-year-old John snorted into his cereal as he listened to his mother try her hardest to get his father’s attention. John knew that it was pointless to disrupt his father’s morning routine of coffee and the newspaper. Once Jefferson Tracy had his paper, he was absorbed within it until he had read every article._

_Glancing over at his elder brother, who was trying to hide his amusement, John nudged him in the ribs to see if he could get him to crack. Eliciting no response, the platinum blond went after the brother across from him, six-year-old Gordon, who was seated next to ten-year-old Virgil._

_“Stop that,” Gordon hissed, kicking him back lightly._

_“Make me,” John grinned._

_“Dad! John’s being a jerk!”_

_“I am not!”_

_“Boys, behave,” Jeff muttered as he stared at the paper. “Honestly, Lucille, why do we have so many again?”_

_“You don’t want me to answer that in such company,” she began. “Jeff...”_

_John nearly lost it at his mother’s statement, while Scott nearly choked on his cereal. His father had returned to his paper. He could see his mother was getting annoyed._

_The blonde woman scowled in the direction of her husband. “This isn’t exactly how I expected to state this, but since you won’t listen to me say that we need to talk, I’m just going to blab it out. I’m five months pregnant.”_

_As one, the brothers stopped with their spoons halfway to the mouths as they turned to look at their mother in surprise. Had they heard right?_

_“That’s nice, dear,” his father responded, not quite getting it as he continued reading. “Glad to hear the diet is going great like you wanted.”_

_“It’s another boy.”_

_John could not stop the grin from forming across his face at his mother’s announcement. Another boy! Wait. **Another** boy. Ugh! He had enough brothers as it was! Another boy to share his baseball equipment with. Another brother to babysit._

_Jeff flipped the page. “That’s good. Hey, a wildfire started last night a few hundred miles away. Strange that we didn’t hear of it.”_

_“Oh, that it is!” Lucille stood up, picked up a blueberry muffin, got her arm ready, and chucked it, nailing Jeff right in the face, causing him to drop his coffee all over his clean white shirt and precious newspaper._

_As one, the boys lost it, loud hysterical laughter filling the kitchen of the family ranch. The look of shock and bewilderment on their father’s face would not allow them to contain their mirth._

_“Ow! Luce, what was that for?!” he questioned, cleaning up the coffee he had spilled over his tie and shirt. Spotting the hysterical children, he frowned. “Okay, what did I miss?”_

_“Oh, only a big announcement,” she huffed. “I’m five months pregnant. Another boy. I’m naming him Alan Shepard, and that’s all I want to hear about it. You named the rest. I get to name this one. He’s going to be my little star-ling.”_

_The dark brunette stared, not quite comprehending. “You’re... pregnant?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Five months?”_

_She beamed. “Explains all the weight, huh? Small baby, though, the doctor said. He was quite surprised to learn of this pregnancy – no more than me, though. I mean, pregnant after six years! What are the odds? That explains why we did not catch it until just a few days ago.”_

_“You’re… pregnant?” Jeff repeated, not quite comprehending this scenario._

_“Honestly, Jefferson, I’ve already answered that. YES. I. Am. Pregnant. You knocked up your wife yet again. Congratulations are in order. Boys, a round of applause for your father, please.” Lucille grinned as her sons – the two youngest not quite understanding why they were clapping – began the round of applause._

_Jeff continued to stare at her, shock written all over his face. “We… You…”_

_“If you ask one more time, I swear I’ll throw another muffin at your thick head. I’m due March 12 th. He’s going to be a spring baby.”_

_John smiled brightly as his father finally got up from his chair and hugged his wife as tightly as he could without hurting her or the baby she carried. How had none of them realized that was why their mother seemed more… off?_

_Then again, it had been six years since Gordon was born, as of a few months ago when he had turned six, so it was no wonder none of them had realized. By the time the baby would be born, Gordon would be seven years old!_

_Looking over at Scott and the delight in his eyes, the blond continued to smile as he studied the expressions on each of his brother’s faces. Virgil had worry and nervousness, but Gordon was absolutely delighted and shouting about how he was no longer the baby of the family. That he now had his own little brother to torment._

_Their family had grown with the announcement. Closer, bigger, happier._

**E** **N** **D F** **LASHBAC** **K**

They had all taken the news fairly well, and John still laughed from time to time when he remembered just how his mother had told his father about Alan. She had already named him after her favorite early astronaut, the very first American to reach orbit. His father had made the mistake of bringing up the name Walter, and ended up with another muffin to the face.

When Alan had been born, she had begun showing him the stars practically the first night she brought him home, all of them standing together with their new brother. One thing John had always noticed that when Alan saw the stars, even if his not fully developed eyes understood them, he would quiet down, no matter what the situation.

After their mother’s death, it was one of the only things that kept him calm as he recovered from his own injuries sustained by the heavy snow.

John had asked him one night a few years after the accident why he always quieted down whenever he was out under the stars, and Alan’s answer, to this day, still made him tear up.

_“Mama told me that if I was upset, I could look up at the stars and she’d always be there. John, I want to be an astronaut, so I can fly with Mama again. I don’t remember much about her, Johnny, but I remember that. The stars.”_

That omission was not long before his father had launched International Rescue, and namely the rocket that flew among the stars – Thunderbird Three. However, his father had always made sure that there was no way anyone other than himself could get into the rocket unless there was a massive mission in space. More than once, Scott had reported to John that he had seen Alan in Thunderbird Three’s hanger. The only cockpits that Alan could get into was Thunderbirds One and Two, yet he seemed to prefer Thunderbird One to the big green beast.

Perhaps it was the speed that drew him to the other Thunderbird ship, though this one could not take him to his beloved stars. He was quite an adrenaline junkie, after all.

He had spoken his concerns to his father about the situation, and Jeff had agreed that Alan’s talents would be best suited for space travel, where split-second decision making and intuition could be best used.

Now, Alan would never see the stars again.

The thought hit the elder blond Tracy like a meteorite. Alan would never see the inside of Thunderbird Five like John had promised years before. He would never fly among the stars like he dreamed.

Keying in a private frequency, John spoke. “Alan? Can you see the stars, little buddy? I hope you can. They’re beautiful tonight. I swear, they’re dancing just for you.” Feeling his voice starting to tremble, he thought about cutting off the transmission. No, that would not be right to do. For all he knew, Alan could hear him. He could still be alive down there. “Sprout, I don’t know if you can even hear me... but if there’s a chance you can, I just… I just want you to know how proud we all are of you, and how much we all love you.

“I wish I had more time, had more conversations. I wish I hadn’t tried to ask you about the bullying last night and instead continued talking about racecars or the stars. Buddy, you have no idea how much I regret telling the others to leave you alone for the night. For them to call you on Sunday. I…”

He gulped, trying to fight back the guilty tears. It was his fault that his brothers did not have another chance to talk to their baby. If only he had told them to go ahead and pester Alan, things might have been a bit easier. He would not feel the tremendous guilt he did now.

Silent tears slipped down his cheeks, pooling on the console below. He made no effort to wipe them away. His breathing hitched as he tried his best to remain calm, though his body shuddered from the effort of holding everything in. He could not break down while on the line with his brother, though he had no idea if Alan could even hear him.

Alan had so much ahead of him. So much promise, and so much hope! Now his life of endless possibilities was likely gone. Ripped away like the avalanche that tore their mother away from them. All because a few selfish individuals were hellbent on their radicalistic ideas of allegiance to a violent regime. A group determined on destroying a peace that blanketed the world for so long, and now it was swept away too. Thousands of innocent lives taken with it. Innocents that included children.

He had gone through the two passenger lists for the planes and discovered the youngest on board one of the planes had only been two. _Two_. Her life ripped from her before it could begin.

Looking over towards the cluster of pictures, he was drawn to the un-uniformed family portrait that was bolted to the console beside him. The frame had been there since Thunderbird Five had been built, to give him some company. Every year when they took a new portrait when they were all home together, the picture was updated.

Jeff stood in the center back, with Scott and John on either side of him. His hands were on Alan’s shoulders, the teenager sitting with his arms crossed on a stool in the front middle while Virgil and Gordon stood on either side of the blond. It had been taken a few weeks before the new semester started, right in front of the villa by the pool.

Everyone looked happy except for Alan, whose hair was tinted a pinkish color after his failed attempt to remove the red dye Gordon had used on him while he had been sleeping. The death glare Alan was shooting Gordon had made everyone laugh so hard that they had picked this particular picture as the year’s family portrait.

Running a finger over his annoyed youngest brother’s face, he choked out a sob, unable to hold in his composure. His misery had overtaken his senses as reality hit him that another broken family portrait would be taken. This would be the last one with the six of them together, just like the last family portrait they had with their mother.

He broke down, his heart wrenching as harsh sobs left his lips, his cheeks soaked with sorrowful tears as he wrapped his arms around his torso, his body bending just slightly.

Not Alan. Not this. Not now. Not his little star-ling. Why?! Last night, everything had been fine! They had been making plans to convince their father to take Alan up in Thunderbird Three! Alan, who was so full of life, the light of their lives! Their mother’s last gift to them. Her clone practically!

It was almost cruel to call Alan that, yet it was so true. Alan was the family dreamer, full of big ideas and the energy to achieve them if he put his mind to it. Head always up in the clouds and among the stars, the teenager was bright and cheerful, filled with good grace and compassion, but also had quite the stormy temper to boot when angered. Losing Alan was like losing Lucille all over again. Their family would be ripped apart. Splintered. Ruined.

“If you have passed on… I-I hope it was swift. I hope you didn’t… didn’t feel anything. If you’re still alive, please find some way to get a signal out. A transmission. Bang a pipe. Anything! Just let us know where you are, kiddo.”

_Please_.

Pushing himself away from the console after a few minutes of silence, he wiped the tears from his face as he contacted his father and stated he was signing off for the night. He could not take any more. He had to get away. Take a shower. Get some sleep and pick it up tomorrow.

As he left the room and hopped in the shower, relishing in the hot water that covered up his continued sobs, he missed the burst of static and voice.

“ _John? Can…hear…? Please… I want…home._ ”

Static overcame the audio, and the signal became lost once more.


	5. Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the ‘intermission’ chapter, you could say. Act 1 ends here, and Act 2 begins here. It’s a fairly long chapter, on par with the first and final chapters, so be warned! Thanks to Shadowfox8 for betaing! Warning – Brief coarse language [only one case of it]. If you questioning why it is there, I’ve shown the specific scene to several people, and they all agree that I need to keep the word in.

**World Trade Center Plaza, Beneath the rubble**

Dirt.

His mouth was partially filled with dirt, or what he thought was dirt. His eyes burned from the filth, and his ears were clogged. Coughing, he tried to spit out as much of the substance as he could, groaning at the effort the little movements took. Moving his arms to clear his eyes was another story entirely. The left arm was broken, that much he was sure. Alan could still move his fingers, but sharp pain spiked through them like lightning. Studying his right side, the teenager gasped in pain once more as he realized something was not right. He feared it was dislocated or his collar bone possibly broken due to the location of the pain. Either way, the Wharton teenager knew he was a mess.

How that happened, he was not quite sure. The events leading up to this confusion were foggy, just out of reach. Frustrating, really. More frustrating than when he had tried scrubbing the red dye from his hair and ended up turning it pink instead. The amount of humiliation he endured from his brothers forced him into bleaching his hair back to his normal color – if not a bit lighter – until more of his natural hair grew back out.

Hot blood dripped from his bottom lip where his teeth dug into it as he forced back cries of pain when he forced his left arm to creep up past the debris that covered his hand to his face and eyes. Little twitches of the fingertips cleared out the worst of the rubble from his eyes. Despite the white-hot agony, he refused to give up. He was a Tracy, damn it! Tracys did not give up, no matter what. He had beaten the Hood when he had invaded Tracy Island two years prior. Whatever this little entrapment was, and damaged arms, were nothing compared to that.

At least he hoped.

The taste of fragments from whatever was holding him down was truly disgusting. Far worse than Grandma’s meatloaf surprise, if he were being honest, and that was saying something. He could feel the acrid grit rattling around in his lungs as he breathed. He had inhaled some. This was not good. Debris in the lungs was never good, according to some of Virgil’s extremely boring yet helpful medical lectures.

Blinking his eyes a few times as he let his arm relax, he tried moving his eyeballs in effort to expel some of the smaller pieces of the gunk. He groaned, though, as all that seemed to accomplish was painful scratches along the inside of his eyelid. It was mostly dark, save for a faint orange light in the distance and maybe some from above. There was not nearly enough light for his damaged eyes to see where he was, but from what he could tell he was partially buried beneath something. Its entirety covering his waist and legs. Wait… His legs!

Focusing on his lower body, he realized they were still there, but he could barely feel them. It was almost like they had fallen asleep. Alan tried shifting his right leg and was relieved at the small nimble movement. His left? Alan took a deep breath as he realized everything below the knee felt completely numb – like it was not there. This realization fueled his need to move. The teenager tried shifting his body from under the heavy obstacle, but nothing was working. His breathing quickened as his heart began to pound.

He was trapped!

_Trapped_. One of his worst nightmares come alive. No, no… Terror-filled adrenaline coursed through his body, and he threw his hand against the concrete slab. Screaming hoarsely, he desperately attempted to free himself. The grit still in his mouth scratched at his throat as hot tears slipped down his face.

His chest tightened as he continued to weakly push, gasping. Not enough air. There was not enough air! Big gasps left his lungs as he struggled to catch his breath. He gripped the slab, wishing he could take on the powers of Superman and break it in half before blasting his way out of here.

_Calm yourself immediately, foolish child. **Tenang atau anda akan mati**._

Terrified eyes flicked upwards and around. That voice! Who was… Why did it sound so familiar? Speaking in Malay? ‘Calm down or you will die’ is what the translation was, he knew. Tin-Tin’s linguistic instructions over the years had come in handy.

**_Masih hati_ ** _, Alan. Still the heart. Calm yourself. **Tenang**. Let me in. Let me help._

He clenched his eyes shut, trying to do as the voice stated. In his panicked state, he knew he was not thinking properly.

_Open your mind to me. **Serahkan diri anda kepada saya**._

Submit himself? Well, if that made the fear go away, then by all means! The voice sounded like Kyrano, but some of the Maylay made no sense. Still, he allowed the voice in, almost gasping at the soothing grace that overflowed him. His mental torment crawled to a halt, his chest began to relax, and he let his arms drop to his sides.

The voice did not return, much to his relief and disappointment, and he looked around, eyes adjusting to the dark just enough to see that there were other sources of light.

Rubble of concrete, steel, and long rods surrounded him in the dim setting. The sound of things shifting startled him as his memory began to return. He had been in the South Tower of the World Trade Centers. A plane had struck a few floors above them. He had fallen through the floor in the resulting explosion, and had been rescued by... by... The name felt out of reach, scrubbed from his mind.

They had boarded an elevator... After that, his mind blanked out. Now he was here, being crushed by a more than likely huge cement slab, surrounded by death. There was someone next to him, a few feet away, but he could not make out the face. Probably dead. Why was that not affecting him as much as it should be?

Was his father panicking? Had his older brother, space-bound John, gotten his emergency telecommunication after a plane had hit the North Tower? He had sent him one... were the Thunderbirds in route? Had his family launched their mighty rescue vehicles? Or were they waiting until they were called? He could not, for the life of him, remember.

What was going to happen now? Alan was not sure. Uncertainty was a feeling he very much disliked. Could he even call out for help? Had he even tried? Opening his mouth, nothing came out but a near-silent, strangled cry that only aggravated the gravel in his mouth. Well, that was useful. He must have used all his energy in his screaming panic attack.

_Rest now, Alan. You have a long trial ahead of you. **Rehat**._

Unnatural tiredness crept into his limbs, and try as he might he could no longer keep his eyes open. He was out cold before the ground shook again mightily, unaware of the second tower collapsing.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

 “Tracy. Tracy, you there? Can you hear me?”

Alan groaned, hearing the voice piercing through his resting state. Why did Joshua have to be here? Did he not have anything better to do with his life than track him down and punish him first thing in the morning?

“Joshua, get out of my room,” he hissed, his voice little more than a squeak. “You can beat me up after school…”

“You idiot, we’re not in the dorms! Wake up, you moron! You gotta contact your brother and get us the hell out of here! I got you down from the Tower. You do the rest and get _me_ out of here!” The voice was close, but distant. Strange. Not quite there.

The blond blearily opened his eyes as he felt more lucid this time, seeing the darkness once more. Oh. It had not been a nightmare. This was his new reality, trapped under who knows what. Had a couple floors collapsed? Why was he not panicking? What was that soothing notion within him?

“Why’d you have to wake me... everything hurts...” A whimper left him as the waking pain began to spread throughout his body. Virgil had always told him that pain was good. Pain was your friend. Pain meant you were alive. Well, given how much he hurt, he would rather be dead. “Where are you?”

“Right here.”

Alan flicked his eyes around before settling upon the body he had seen earlier. Hissing, he reached up and shifted more of the grit out of his eyes. Things were still blurry, but he could finally make up the older teenager’s pale face. Looking him over, he was shocked at the state he was in – all but his head and right arm were buried under rubble. Crushed.

He gulped. “J-Joshua… You’re…”

“I know,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “It’s bad. You don’t look as bad, though. I… I don’t even hurt anymore.”

Alan hesitated, taking note of his injuries. “Head hurts, d-dislocated arm or broken clavicle, I’m not sure. Other arm is busted but I can move it a little. Ribs ache, and my legs...”

“Just numb for me, except for this one arm. This sucks. Why haven’t they found us yet?!”

Taking on a thoughtful look, the teenager spoke his mind. “Did you try yelling?”

If looks could kill, Alan would have burst into flames at the look he received from the other boy. “Shut the hell up. Of course, I did! No one can hear us! The silence is deafening.”

Now that Joshua had pointed them out, Alan could hear the stillness in the air. The complete silence, as if they were in a sound-proof room, a feeling that sent chills through his spine.

Gulping, Alan looked around trying to gauge his surroundings. He could see the large slab of concrete that was pinning him down. If he had to wager a guess, it was what was crushing his left leg, given the angle it rested. The limb he still could not feel below the knee.

Why was he not freaking out? Had that voice earlier… Was it blanketing him with forced calmness? Was Kyrano helping him? He had not been aware that his power was that great, though he was grateful.

How was he going to get out of this? How could he even possibly begin to get himself free? Alan knew his injuries were bad, but how bad was deeply unnerving. Yes, pain meant you were alive, but shock was also a wonderful painkiller. He needed to get help. Help! Realization of the device suddenly hitting him – his communicator!

Looking down at the arm on his chest, he frowned as the screen revealed a deep crack. Would it even work? How was he supposed to activate it when he could not move his other arm without sharp pain?

He gulped again, feeling panic rising once more before the unnatural calmness overtook him again.

This could not be happening. They had almost been out of the building! Now they were trapped. Just what had happened? The skyscraper could not have collapsed, could it? Nah, that was not possible. Something else must have happened, he was sure. Buildings just did not collapse. Not in this day and age.

Then again, planes were not supposed to crash into them either.

He could feel the darkness creeping in on him again. No doubt due to his aching head wound. Sleep had never been so inviting before, but Alan knew he needed to fight it. Not only due to the internal voice of Virgil reminding him about medicine again, but the blond knew nightmares would soon follow. This hell he was buried in held nothing on anything of his previous experiences, not even the night after the Hood’s invasion of Tracy Island.

As far as he was aware, it was almost three days before he allowed himself to sleep after the attack. The nightmares were the main reason for it, along with the fear that if he fell asleep his worst nightmares would become reality. A reality that consisted of him being an orphan and his family lost forever.

If he could stay awake back then, surely, he could do it again. Of course, then he was not buried under who knows how much rubble, aching horribly. Should he not be hurting more? It felt like that should be, yet…

“Don’t fall asleep again. It’s boring when you’re asleep… Hey, I can hear the roar of engines,” Joshua stated, drawing Alan’s attention back to the present.

“Engines?” Alan listened close, hearing the low rumble. He knew that sound! “Thunderbird Two!” His family _had_ gotten his emergency call! He _had_ spoken to John! Memory began rushing back to him in bits and pieces. What had his final words to his family been? When had he last told them he loved them?

“How the hell would you know that it’s that one? I mean, I get that your family runs those beasts, but still!”

A smile crossed his face. Ever since International Rescue began, and given that he lived on the Island, he had known the different frequencies of the engine thrusters. The shriek of Thunderbird One. The dull roar of Thunderbird Two. The strength and power of Thunderbird Three. The hum of Thunderbird Four. “I have my ways.”

“You’re obsessed! I mean, I would be too but still!”

Alan smiled some more. Being able to tell the differences meant he knew who was coming or going from the Island. Who was safe and who he still had to worry for. It had been a survival mechanism for him to learn so long ago.

“So, I take it your family is your heroes, then?”

Alan nodded, grimacing slightly at the action. “Yeah. My family has always been my heroes. Ever since I was little, they’ve done things no one else did. At least, in my opinion. Scott became a test pilot for the latest Air Force crafts. Virgil followed his dreams and became a famous musician, artist, and a doctor to boot. Freakin’ genius, he is.” A smile crossed his face.

“Gordon won a gold medal in the Olympics only a few years after a hydrofoil accident nearly killed him shortly after he joined W.A.S.P. John became an astronaut and communications expert. He’s living in space now, you know. My father... He’s the one that was always there for all of us. He inspired us. He wanted nothing more than to help people. To create something so that way what happened to my mother didn’t happen to anyone else.”

“Huh.” Joshua fell silent for a few minutes, causing Alan to wonder if he had fallen asleep or not. “So, what happened two years ago? The news said that IR was infiltrated and attacked!”

Ah, there it was. “Spring Break from Hell. That... is not fun to think about,” Alan responded, delving into the story of what had taken place that spring break. It felt good to talk about things. It was one thing to talk to your family about it, but another thing entirely to talk to someone who once tormented you. Keeping such a big secret had taken quite a toll on him on his days at school, the stress sometimes driving him up the wall. So many times he had wanted to spill the beans. That would have gotten the bullies to leave him alone. For Joshua to leave him be.

To his credit, Joshua listened, asking a few questions here and there, as Alan told the story. “So, that _was_ you in London last year. I thought you looked familiar.”

His eyes widened. “You saw me?”

“I was in that monorail. You saved both my life and my little sister.”

The blond blinked a few times, surprised at this news. Joshua had been there?

“So… thank you.”

Say what? “Huh?”

“You guys get thanked by the media all the time, but have you ever been thanked by someone who knew you? I want to thank you, Thunder-boy. That was my sister’s birthday, and she wanted nothing more than to ride the monorail while we were in London on vacation. You saved our lives that day. You and that girl.”

“Tin-Tin. Fermat was piloting Thunderbird Two.”

“Huh. You don’t say. That little twerp?”

“Don’t call him that,” Alan growled defensively.

“I owe him a lot, too, it would seem. You’ll thank him for me, right?”

“What are you talking about? You can thank him yourself when they get us out of here!”

“Heh, I like that you can hold onto hope like that. We’ve been here for hours. I don’t know what happened exactly, but they aren’t going to find us. Even if they do, I’m not…”

“Th-They will!” Alan protested, voice trembling. Hours? Had it really been so long since the elevator fell?

“Why don’t you try getting a signal out?”

“I can barely move my broken arm. The other one’s… not working right.”

“Even if it’s dislocated or whatever, you should be able to move it like when I dislocated it a couple years back. Yeah, it’ll hurt like hell, but if it means getting out of here, is that not enough?”

Alan hmphed, trying to ignore him. Joshua was lean, but he packed muscle; whereas Alan was still fairly scrawny. He had muscle, but nowhere near as much as Joshua. Heck, this fall should have killed him, so why was he still alive? “Yeah. The school nurse fixed up my arm, remember?” And then Virgil had paid him a visit after the school had called his father. That had been awkward and embarrassing. He had come as a doctor, not a brother, and thus Alan could not embarrass him.

“Ah. Well, you can still move it, right? Try.”

“A bit, yeah,” he hissed, doing just that. “Hurts like hell, though.”

“Oh well. You need to figure this out and be quick about it. Fix your damn watch thing and get us out of here. At least one of us needs to get out of here.”

Alan scowled and reached slowly into his pocket, biting his lip until it bled from the agonizing pain of moving a broken limb. He pulled out two things – a small tool kit that he always carried around, and his ear piece that was thankfully not broken. At least that made one thing that would work… right? Unless there was internal damage.

Running his finger over it, he nearly let out a shout of surprise as circuitry crisscrossed in front of his vision like a holographic display – only it was internal. Not again! Why was this happening to him? Two years prior, such things kept popping up when he felt something electronic or a machine/engine of some kind. Not all the time, thankfully. Usually only when he was stressed or intensely focused. While this strange development had uses, it still freaked him out when he was not expecting it.

“What the eff is up with your eyes? They’re _glowing_!”

He blinked and glanced over at him. “Glowing?”

Joshua made a face of terror. “How can you not know?! Don’t look at me, freak! No one’s eyes do that! What the eff are you?”

Glowing? That made no sense to Alan. How could his eyes be glowing? He only knew three people whose eyes glowed – Tin-Tin, the Hood, and Kyrano. They had mental powers, their eyes signifying when they were using said gifts. He had no such ability. Why would he? “Look, I don’t know why my eyes are glowing. It’s probably just a trick of the lighting in here. But I am the only one who can get word out. I’m assuming you tried your phone.” He painstakingly put the ear piece in the correct place, relaxing at the bit of familiar comfort it brought.

“…No.”

He blinked. “Seriously? You’re joking, right? What the hell, dude. You’re over here freaking about my eyes supposedly glowing and you didn’t even think to check to see if your _phone_ was working?!”

“Shut the hell up. I don’t even know if I can reach it! Maybe your freaky flashlight eyes can find it for me!”

“I do _not_ have flashlights for eyes!” Alan scowled, rather perturbed at the implication. “I’m telling you, it’s a trick of the light!”

“Tracy, there is no damn light in here! Do you have any idea how dark it is?!”

“It’s not _that_ dark, Matthews!”

“Because you have freakin’ flashlight eyes!”

“I DO NOT!”

“DO, TOO!”

The next five minutes or so were spent sulking like the immature teenagers they really were. As if the situation they were in did not exist. That they were free instead and just bickering at school. Reality crashed around them all too soon, though, when Joshua apologized.

Alan blinked. “You’re actually…?”

“For a lot of things, yeah… Might as well get it out of the way. Going to die, so I want to make my peace. At least with you. You aren’t half bad for a Tracy.”

Alan flicked his eyes over to him. “Why do you hate me so much, anyway? What did I ever do to you?”

Joshua managed a small smile. “Not you, personally. Your all-too-perfect family. Do you have any idea that your family has always beat mine?” At Alan’s confused expression, the older teenager elaborated, voice lowering slightly. “Your brother Scott beat out my oldest sister as the primary test pilot in the Air Force. Your brother John beat my older brother at his shot at being an astronaut. Virgil beat my next sister at medical school for best score and valedictorian. Gordon beat my other brother on getting into the Olympic swim team just by being a hair faster! Your family doesn’t even realize mine exists!

“So, I figured when I saw you that I would be the one Matthews that would beat a Tracy. That maybe if I could beat you, then my younger sister, Elizabeth, would not have to endure the same streak.”

“Uh… last I checked, I only have four siblings, so there’s no chance that she’d-”

“Shut the hell up. I’m opening up to you, and you’re trying to prove me wrong?!”

“Whoa, whoa, that’s not what I meant! Ugh.”

“Humph.” Joshua licked his bloodied lip and sighed, closing his eyes. “That’s why I singled you out all the time. I didn’t care if you were younger. All I knew is that like my siblings before me, I had to be your rival. Only… now I’ve failed, too. Can’t even beat you at a game of wits.”

Alan’s eyes lowered. He wanted to offer some sort of comfort, apology, to his fellow student, yet he could not think of anything to say. Dimly, he could remember the name Matthews either coming in second or third place for various things that his brothers did.

Hearing Joshua straining, he looked back at him, watching as he maneuvered his free arm down to his waist, pushing at some of the smaller bits of rubble. At his questioning look, Joshua explained that he was trying to get his phone. However, what he pulled out was crushed beyond repair.

“N-No! Don’t throw it!” Alan cried, seeing the teenager about to do that. “Pass it here. I might be able to combine it with my watch. Extra signal boost. Maybe I can use some components and get a transmission out.”

“I thought you… were the dumb one.” Nonetheless, Joshua passed it over.

“I know a _lot_ more than people think I do,” the blond muttered in annoyance as he carefully grasped the semi-crushed black device. He received no circuitry flash, leaving him grateful.

“Yeah… If you weren’t such a ditzy daydreamer…”

He chuckled at that. “Story of my life. I can’t help it. I’ve always been a dreamer. Scott says that makes me a lot like Mom.” He closed his eyes, a wave of longing overcoming him. He wanted his brothers. He wanted to hear their voices. He wanted to go home. Jump in the pool with them. He found himself wishing he had called his other brothers the night before. Had answered their calls instead of ignoring them.

He would not let himself cry. Could not let Joshua have that satisfaction, despite the hopeless situation they were in. He tightened his grip, doing his best to ignore the sharp pains that traveled up his arm at the movement. The pain brought sharp relief with it. It gave him a focus. Took him away from his longing. Kept him in the present.

Screwing up his eyes, he focused again on his watch as he wishfully attempted to make it work. Just activate the transmission. To his dismay, he received no retinal scan, nor any sound from the device. It was dead. Kaput. Ruined. How had a little crack done so much damage?!

Frustrated, he clenched his fists again, a flurry of foul words flowing through his mind as he cursed everything and anything. The phone was broken, as was his watch-com. He could not scream for help – his voice was barely above a hoarse level!

Bile rose in his throat as the anxiety took hold of his mind once more. If he could not get word out, they would not be found. They would be left down here to die and rot. Never see their families again. They would die alone.

Before his eyes, the world around him shifted into blinding white snow, and a shiver shot down his spine. He looked down, finding himself trapped in both arms and encased in snow. Gurgled whispers of his name from a voice long since heard. Looking down at his hands, he found them contained within crimson mittens.

Somehow, his mind had been transported back in time to the avalanche. He could hear his mother’s bloodied voice as she tried to speak. No. No, no! This could not be happening again. Being trapped in the freezing snow, the cold seeping into his very being! It was bad enough that the Hood had forced him to relieve the accident and then trap him in the freezer while having a horrible panic attack – he was not about to let it happen again! He had to break free. Bring himself back to the present.

He did not want to remember his mother’s death. Her gurgled final breaths. Being left alone, awake and frightened – something no four-year-old should have gone through. Waiting for a rescue that was not coming. Deafening silence. The _silence_ … It was almost as terrifying as his mother dying. No sound. No comforting words. Just him alone, his tears frozen to his face.

“I wa-want to go h-home,” Joshua whispered, gurgling a bit. “I want my Mom.”

His voice pierced through the veil, thankfully breaking the hold that the dark memory held upon the youngest Tracy. White brightness shifted back to bleak gray and black. Cold turned back to mild heat. Crushing snow turned to concrete slabs.

Flicking cerulean orbs back over to his fellow prisoner of circumstance, he was more shocked to see tears flowing down his face instead of the blood slipping out his mouth. His gurgled crying broke the Tracy’s heart.

“D-Don’t talk, Joshua. Save your strength,” Alan whimpered, the sounds breaking his fragile grip on his own emotions. “Please, you can’t leave me alone. Don’t leave me alone…” His voice trembled.

“C-can’t… hel…p… it…”

“Listen! I can hear someone! It’s one of my family! They’re using their exo-skeletons! You have to hang on, Joshua, please!” Alan looked up towards the small source of light he could see. “Hey!” he croaked, trying to strengthen his voice. He had to get their attention! “P-Please!”

A dog barked in response.

He turned his head, looking at Joshua again. “Don’t leave me. You have to hang on. Don’t leave me alone! Please!” He raised his voice again, trying to get a response from someone above. He did not know who it might be, only that it was safety.

He heard a shout from above, and debris began raining down. He flinched away as a good chunk of concrete narrowly missed his head. The source of light from above was gone. Had someone heard them?

“Someone’s coming for us! See? The light’s gone!” he rasped to his peer. Seeing that Joshua’s eyes were sliding shut, Alan growled and reached out, grasping the limp hand in his own. He could not be left alone with a corpse again. He refused! Never again would he allow himself to be put in that situation if he could help it. “Fucking stay with me, damn it Don’t leave me alone!”

“Heh… you cussed…” Joshua wheezed, the continuous stream of blood staining the concrete below him. “Bad… Tracy…”

“Shut up. Save your strength. We’re going to get out of here. Someone’s coming for us.” Alan continued talking to him, not sure of how much time was passing, giving him an occasional squeeze as he waited. He could hear the thunderous roar of Thunderbird Two’s thrusters and sighed with relief. They were bringing in the big guns to dig them out!

“Do me… a favor… tell my fam…mily… that I… I love them…”

“Just hold on, Joshua. Just a little longer. Once they get the clamps in place, they’ll get us out in no time. I promise!” Alan looked upwards once more, waiting for the familiar sounds of the clamps being shot down. Why had none of them called down to him? Wait. The roar was becoming quieter. They were… They were leaving!

Panic seized his heart. “Wait! Come back!”

The roar zoomed away, and Alan realized there was no rescue coming. They had been left behind. Unheard.

Looking over to Joshua, he found that his hand had gone limp. No squeeze of the fingers returned a response. No matter how much he repeated the gesture, whispered Joshua’s name. Try as he might, the youngest Tracy could not hold back the tears that gathered in his eyes.

He was alone.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

Alan halted his tinkering of his watch-com as the ground began to tremble. Quickly, he grasped at the small tools he had held in his pocket and held his watch and the dismantled phone close out of fear of dropping it.

He had been working on the devices for almost an hour, trying his hardest to get it to work, but he was no real engineer. Then again, according to his first-place trophy for his racing engine, he was an inventor. He knew circuitry and to his credit almost as much as Fermat! He was a quick learner, much to his younger friend’s surprise when he started expressing interest in learning how to build a computer.

Computer programs, hacking… that was stuff he knew how to do. Delicate circuitry was another matter, though it made sense to him, just like being behind the wheel of a vehicle.

That did not seem to be helping him out now, though. How could he possibly fix it? The wires were so tiny compared to his large fingers and compromised sight. If only he had Fermat’s genius, he would be set! Heck, even his glasses would help.

Coughing on the fresh wave of dust that polluted the air, he settled his head back, resting his stiff neck. All he could do was wait for the trembles to stop, which they thankfully did about a minute later. It was not that they were bad as opposed to frightening. He still had no idea what was going on outside his prison. It must have been pretty bad given that he still had not been found. Had more than a few floors collapsed? But why would the bottom floors have collapsed?

Taking a few deep breaths, he set the watch back down on his chest next to the phone. The phone was cupped in the hand of his broken arm as he used his aching other arm for the tinkering, having long-since gotten used to the agony of moving it. He was getting tired again. Wait. What was that dripping on his face?

Shifting his eyes upward, he blinked hurriedly as a pipe high above him dripped steadily… Opening his mouth, he gave it a taste, fearful of what it might be.

Water! He held his mouth open, taking in the sweet liquid. He did not care that he swallowed the grit still in his mouth along with the life-saving beverage. Whatever that rumble had been had caused the pipe to leak.

Drinking as much as he could, he found himself wishing he had a bottle to save up what he could. His thoughts were quickly distracted by a falling object above him. Yelping, he shifted his head to the side, silently yelling at the sudden pull to his collarbone that sent a fresh wave of pain throughout his body.

Hearing a sharp clang, he slowly opened his teary eyes, looking up. The orbs widened in shock at what he saw – the severed partial leg of one of the exo-skeletal suits caught on some rods about two feet above his right shoulder. How on Earth…? What? He could not even begin to make sense of it at that very moment, though the familiarity filled him with joy.

He could see the broken circuitry and wires sticking out of the leg, and a broad grin crossed his face. Each of the suits had transmitters in them, helping them all be controlled to their fullest extent. If he could just reprogram it… he might have a better chance at getting his watch to work! Of course, working with what he had made the task rather difficult already.

How was he supposed to reach it? If his arms were acting normally, he could have grabbed it easily. However, given the current state they were in, this was going to be quite the battle.

Shifting the electronics in front of him, “Good thing I’m one stubborn Tracy,” he muttered to himself as he steeled himself against the pain and reached up with his right arm. Fresh agonized tears sprung to his eyes as pieces of his collarbone grated against each other. If he could, he would have screamed his head off. As it were, it was only a pathetic, hoarse _squeak_.

His shaking fingers gripped the rods as he tried to catch his ragged breath. The spikes of pain running through his nervous system from his injury was causing black spots to appear in his vision. At that moment, he wanted to give up. Give in to the darkness that beckoned him in.

_You can do this. You must. **Cepat. Abaikan kesakitan. Anda lebih kuat daripadanya.**_

He nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice returning, this time telling him to be quick, to ignore the pain, and that he was stronger than it. Just who was it speaking to him?! Was it his own consciousness? The voice vanished again, much to his annoyance and lonesomeness.

Straining, he let out a weak breath of relief as his fingers made contact with the familiar green metal. To his surprise, the flash of circuitry appeared within his vision, taking him on a quest of the inner workings of the severed exo-leg.

“I think I almost got this, Joshua,” he spoke up, though he received no response. He knew that Joshua was dead – he had felt the life leave him hours before. Joshua had left him alone with his demons and phobias that had been brought back to life once again. Damn Cliethrophobia.

Not even the soothing of the voice had been able to calm him after his only companion succumbed to his injuries. Alan was not ashamed to admit he had cried long and hard after learning not only had he _not_ been heard, but he was alone.

“That’s gonna change,” he hissed as he gripped the device, slowly inching it across the bars, hoping that he did not drop it on his face. It _would_ be just his luck to do that, in all honesty. “C’mon… C’mon…”

The exo-leg teetered on the edge of the rods, making him rather nervous. He did not need all of it – just needed to get to whatever wires and circuitry he could. Finally, it tipped and fell a bit, stopping just a few inches to the side, the top of it caught in the rods. Grinning, he looked it over, examining the exposed circuitry. “We’ll get out of this. Don’t you worry about that. I said I’d get us out of this, and I will.”

He looked between the exo-leg and the two electronic devices on his chest. If he recalled correctly, each of the legs had a powerful battery pack with them – the suits were prototypes after all. First generation to be exact. Brains was already working on a second-generation model with only one main battery pack built into the back of the suits, but it was proving difficult for the skilled engineer. While he had designed new batteries for the world – longer lasting, more durable – creating just a single pack to power something like an exo-skeleton was problematic.

“Think, Alan. Where is the pack?” he questioned aloud, the sound of his weak voice making the silence around him less lonely.

_Focus on what it is you want. Visualize it within in your mind. **Buka fikiran anda untuk kemungkinan.**_

He scowled. That voice was starting to get helpfully annoying. Irritating, really. Yet he did as suggested, opening his mind to possibilities. He remembered when Brains was designing the life-saving equipment a year back. He had briefly looked over the schematics himself out of curiosity. The battery pack was smaller than the palm of a child’s hand. Yet, where was it? He touched the metal.

His eyes pained him again, and the world around him shifted from bleak to colorful. He found himself surrounded by multi-colored wires crisscrossing around him while green metal softly hummed. Was he… Was he _inside_ the exo-leg?! The world seemed to zoom around him. He felt himself traveling, though he knew he had not moved. Suddenly, he was in front of a black box that took up most of his vision. Looking around, he spotted a rotator cuff. Ankle joint. He was near the ankle joint!

He was thrust back out, gasping at the sudden motion. He felt the strange notion of motion sickness threatening to make him vomit, and just barely managed to hold it down.

_That is only just the beginning of what you can do, Alan._

He did not make any acknowledgement to the voice this time as he fought to control the bodily urge to throw up. Why did he feel like he had been thrown for a loop, yet he had not moved?!

Waiting a few minutes for the sickness to pass, after securing the electronics on his torso, he reached up with his left arm, flinching at the grating bones. His right shoulder was not going to take any more punishment, leaving him to use his broken arm. He had to get through this. Somehow! His family was counting on him! He was depending on himself!

Fingers touched the cool green metal and slowly slipped within it. He had to reach the battery pack wires. If he could bring out one of the wires, he could connect it to his watch and _hopefully_ power it up.

He was not quite sure how long it took him to thread one of the cut wires through the exo-leg and down to his torso. The wire was still sheathed in a red rubber casing, and he scowled, unable to see the metal. There was only one thing he could do. He brought it up to his mouth and bit down on the casing, trying to split it open.

The sharp shock he received from the action _definitely_ woke him up, shooting pain throughout his head. It was like accidentally connecting a fingernail in an outlet while trying to plug something in without looking, something that happened more than he liked to admit.

It was only after he shocked himself did he realize he probably could have used the small wire cutters in his toolkit.

_Idiot._

Working at the now exposed wire, he pushed it down on top of the battery compartment for the watch, hoping to jumpstart it. To his utter delight and surprise, voices floated into his earpiece.

“ _Dad, how is Gordon?_ ” John asked.

“John!” Alan cried out, grateful for the sound of his fellow blond. His teeth chattered still from the electric shock, not that he cared. He could hear his family! His brother!

“ _Gordon is resting now. They got the rod out of his calf, and with some recovery time, he’ll be fine, John. Have you had any luck on your end?_ ” Jeff questioned, his voice sounding tired.

“Dad!” Why were they not responding to him? Could they not hear him?! The possibility was too cruel to acknowledge, yet very real.

“ _No, I still can’t track his signal. I don’t know if I ever will be able to. More than likely it’s been crushed._ ”

“I’m not crushed! Well, not all the way! John, Dad, I’m right here! I’m buried here! Come help me out! I can’t get out on my own!” Panic rose in his voice, pushing it up a few octaves. “Help! Dad, help me! Don’t leave me here!”

“ _Don’t think that way, John. Even if... We’ll find him. He’s there somewhere. We just have to locate him._ ”

They could not hear him. They had no idea he could hear them! The unfairness of it all made his throat ache as he choked back the tears. “Please... Dad... Scott... John... Virgil... Gordon... Anyone! Don’t leave me behind.”

_Please_.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

It was far too dark to work, though he tried. He could not even see his hands in front of him. All night, he had listened to communications between his father and brothers, information on Gordon, who had apparently been hurt by falling into the rubble, and Gordon was not the happiest person in the world at being stuck in a hospital.

‘ _Yeah, well, I’m in a worse spot, Gordo,_ ’ Alan had thought to himself after listening to him complaining yet again, this time about being bored out of his mind.

A few times he had lost power, sometimes by accident while tinkering, other times on purpose from anger that they could not hear him. It always only took a few minutes before he reconnected, if only to hear their voices again.

Why could he not connect? What was he doing wrong? The screen was broken, yes, so he could not receive any holo-vids, but why could he not transmit? Heaven knows he had been trying for several hours. What was he missing? Had the microphone been damaged? A quick check of the recording system proved that it had not. Perhaps the transmitter, then? That was right below the broken screen! That had to be it.

Regardless, there was nothing more he could do that night. It was far too dark, and he too tired. Setting down the tools and devices, his hands clasped over them, he sighed softly.

“Hey, Joshua, do you think I could sleep? Just for a bit? I’m awfully tired, and I’ve let you sleep this long. I should be able to also, right? I don’t think they’d mind if I slept for a little bit...”

Eyelids drooping close, Alan Tracy began to dream.

_The gentle feel of a tropical breeze filled his nostrils with the smell of the ocean. Slowly looking around, he smiled as he twitched his toes in the warm sand as the waves washed over his feet. He was home! That entrapment in rubble had been just a bad dream!_

_With an excited yell, he let his legs carry him at a fast place up the dirt path that led back to the villa, calling for his family. “Gordon! Scott! Virgil! Dad!” he shouted. He would have called for John as well, but he knew that his brother was up in the space station. “Tin-Tin! Fermat! **Saya di sini!** I am here!”_

_Kyrano was not tending to the garden, which struck him as odd. Kyrano was usually there. Where was everyone? Had they gone out on a mission? He could not recall hearing the Thunderbirds taking off… Had he slept deeper than previously thought?_

_Racing through the kitchen, he looked around for Onaha. Upon not finding her, he frowned and turned, running through the house in search of his brothers and father. Someone had to be here! They would not just leave him behind. No, those days were over. Nowadays, he was always informed when a rescue mission was underway. When his family returned. Who was hurt, who was safe._

_“Dad!” he yelled again after checking each bedroom, nook, and hidden space. Upon finding the house to be empty, he swallowed nervously, feeling a trace of panic start to settle in. “Dad! Guys, this isn’t funny!” Finally, he stormed up to his father’s office, ready to bite the head off his family for causing him so much worry._

_Pushing open the door and walking in, he looked around. “Okay, cut the bullcrap and…” He froze, staring at the red-robed man sitting at his father’s desk._

_“Ah, Alan! **Salam**. I was starting to wonder when you would give in to your exhaustion and find me. Do not fret, though. I’ve rather enjoyed my time inside your mind, poking and prodding, visiting your memories. I hope you don’t mind me making myself at home here.”_

_The teenager stood stiffly for a few moments before turning to the door, only to find it shut. A few tugs at the handle revealed that it was locked. Spinning around, he balled up his fists. “Let me out of here!”_

_“Oh, I will not. You see, your body is exhausted, and thus resting. The door will not open again until I allow it.” The Hood smirked and gestured for the blond to sit. “Please join me. I was just about to have some tea.” He waved his hand, and an old teapot appeared on the desk._

_Alan slowly moved over and took a seat, feeling very much like he was at the Headmaster’s office after pulling a silly prank that involved soap in the courtyard fountain. “Where are we?”_

_“Your mind. Originally, this was not your father’s office, but the stars. Sadly, I did not much appreciate that and switched it back to something more familiar. I did leave your precious stars, though.” He gestured towards the wall of glass, and Alan turned, feeling some semblance of relief at the familiarity of the Island night sky._

_“Why are you here? How are you here?”_

_“Tea?” the Hood questioned, holding out one of the ceramic cups. Reluctantly, Alan took it, sipping on the warm liquid. “Amazing, is it not? What the mind can do. You believe you are drinking tea, yet there is nothing there. As for your question, it is simple. You summoned me. We **Berbakat** have a mental connection with each other, but only the strong can send out such a mentally anguished cry. My **bajingan** half-brother does not have the mental strength with his telepathy to reach or hear you, while my beloved niece only has telekinesis. Only I have the ability of both, my mind is strong, as you very well know.”_

_Alan frowned, looking down at his teacup a moment as he mulled over the Hood’s words. From the teachings of Tin-Tin, he knew that ‘_ Berbakat’ _meant ‘gifted’, and that_ ‘bajingan’ _was how the Hood described Kyrano, who was born out of wedlock. “Do not speak of Kyrano in such a way.”_

_The Hood shot him an annoyed look. “Does it make you uncomfortable? Very well. I shall call him Kyrano, then. I suppose I should be kinder to him, as he did give me a wonderful niece that I love very much.”_

_Alan seethed, fury filling him at the man’s words. “You treated her as a servant when she was a child, and again when you invaded our Island!” Tin-Tin had told him a bit about her childhood before they had met. He had not understood what she had meant until after seeing her being bullied by the Hood the day of the invasion._

_“Readying her for the world, Alan. Simple as that. Now, on to more pressing matters. I am sure you have realized by now that you are different.” The Hood watched him a moment. “Drink your tea.”_

_He rolled his eyes, but did so, enjoying the taste. “You called me ‘gifted’. I am not a **Berbakat**. Tin-Tin, Kyrano, and you are. I have no such abilities.”_

_“That is where you are wrong. Do you not realize that when we ‘battled’ that day, you alone could keep up with me? Could block off my mental attacks to a certain extent until I reawakened those locked memories within your mind after you had exhausted yourself that day? All **Berbakat** are able to do that, if they are strong enough – which my pathetic half-brother is not.” _

_The Hood sipped his own drink, smiling and complimenting the taste. He returned his olive eyes to his companion. “You are a very special type of **Berbakat** – a **mekanik**. Do not mistake the word for your ‘mechanic’, though that is the literal translation. A **mekanik** is a rare breed indeed. You are able to connect to circuitry. Feel the life within it, as I’m sure you have noticed. You build and repair with ease.”_

_The sixteen-year-old frowned a moment. It was true – just the past few hours had proven that to him. He was not normal. He had gone_ inside _the exo-leg like a virtual reality simulation!_

_“Perhaps you are not as unobservant as I had thought. This is interesting. You are awakening, Alan. Starting to realize what you can really do. You have always been mechanically gifted, but your full abilities underdeveloped. It is such a regret to see. If only your mother was around, she could have shown you how to develop them.”_

_“My mother?” What was he on about?_

_“Your abilities came from somewhere. You see, each generation of the **mekanik** line is mother to son and then son to daughter. Your future daughter will have the ability.”_

_“Mother to son? So why me? I have **four** brothers! My Mom had five sons!”_

_“Perhaps it has, but not to the extent it did with you. I believe I know the answer for that – the avalanche.” Spotting the harsh flinched and pained look, the Hood looked almost apologetic. “ **Maaf atas kesulitan itu** , Alan. I did not mean to bring up such harsh memories. When I did that in the past, it was merely because of you had vexed me by breaking the guidance processor, delaying my plans.”_

_“Yeah, well, I wasn’t about to let you ruin what my father built in memory of my mother,” the teenager spat, bristling._

_“It was lucky that Mr. Hackenbacker had a spare, or else I might have stayed days on the Island, tormenting all of you… and your family on Thunderbird Five. Oh, what fun I would have had.”_

_“Did you cause this? Those planes?” Alan growled, a bit of bravery shown through. “Is this your revenge plan? You said you’d get it!”_

_The robed man looked highly offended, his eyes flashing red for a moment before he calmed down. “Alan, I am a criminal mastermind, but I am no murderer. At least not to those who are undeserving of my wrath like your family was.”_

_“Explain the monorail then, you **pembohong**!” he demanded, wanting the liar to answer for his crimes._

_“I see your linguistic lessons with Tin-Tin have paid off well. Bravo.” The Hood smiled, making Alan’s stomach churn. “The monorail was a test. I knew you were following in Thunderbird One, and your priority would be to save innocents. You, who had no prior training, piloted three Thunderbirds that day, connecting to them without quite realizing it. It was beautiful to witness.”_

_“Witness? You were in the bank!”_

_“Witness from your mind,” the man elaborated. “Drink, drink! Do not waste. I loathe waste.”_

_Alan scowled yet again, but did so, annoyed. He could not deny the strength the tea seemed to be giving him. “If you were so interested in me, why did you try to kill me so many times?”_

_“Not to test you, but my niece as well. I know Tin-Tin is powerful. She does not realize how powerful she is – I have not seen raw power in our family line since long before my time. I knew when her powers first manifested what she would become. A **dewi** , of sorts.”_

_“A goddess? You’re insane.”_

_“It is a plain way of putting it. No, she is not an all-powerful being, so banish the thought from your mind. You see, our family line – and yours – supposedly comes from the gods. According to legend, though there is a simpler explanation – somewhere in the distant past, our ancestors encountered a rock from space.”_

_“My ancestors lived in peace, whereas the ancestors of the **mekanik** line coveted the power and tried to remove it for their own gain. They were dubbed as traitors and hunted to near extinction, which is why your bloodline is so rare. Why only you among all your brothers were the only to fully awaken it, though you all have the gene, is surprising._

_“Now, whether or not any of that is true is up to you. It could also just be a simple extra chromosome or other such nonsense.” He smirked, aware of the confusion Alan felt. “Two years ago, your powers started to manifest. With proper training, you could even develop as far as I have. Therefore, I have made it nearly impossible for you to yell for help. I am going to force this development within you.”_

_“I don’t want_ anything _to do with you!” Alan growled, slamming his fist on the desk. “So, take your big speech and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine, you **lelaki tua gila**!”_

_“Two years ago, I made a small connection between us, and today, you invited me in. Sought me out, as I’ve stated before.” He smiled pleasantly, choosing to ignore the Tracy’s outburst. “Now, then. Know that I did not cause this act of terrorism. Nothing I do is without reason, and this is without reason. While this would have been a good opportunity to show the world that International Rescue was not as perfect as they appear, even I would not go so far.” He finished his drink and set it on the desk, flicking his eyes upward to meet the furious cerulean orbs. “Now then, wake up. I do not want my legacy to perish in such a foolish act.”_

_Alan crushed the ceramic cup in his hand. “LEGACY?! I am not now, nor will I ever be your-”_

_“Oh, it is far too late for that.” He stared right into his eyes, his own shifting to red with black slits. “I will continue to help you, keep your mind sharp, if only to see to you living and how you develop. You saved my life that day, despite everything I did to you. I now return the favor. Now, wake up! **Bangun dan hidup**!”_

Alan gasped as he returned to the dark world surrounding him. Ragged breaths left his throat and he turned his head this way and that, looking around for any signs of the Hood. Had it only been a dream? Cultivated by his surroundings, memories, and fears of the man? It had to have been. There was no way he had powers like the Hood. How was that even possible?!

Sure, yeah, the past few hours had been rather odd… and his past training with the Thunderbirds had been a breeze – even his brothers had been shocked at how quickly he took to piloting the ships. He thought it had been natural – after all, he had had a pilot’s license since he was thirteen. That could not all be chalked up to the fact that he was a _Berbakat mekanik_.

Or did it make sense after all? He glanced around at the rubble around him, eyes focusing on the exo-leg hanging above him. Had it been by chance that it fell to where he was? No one was that lucky, not even him. Was it possible that he had…? No, that was foolery. Yet…

Now that he thought about it, there had been that invention Brains had been working on that he could not get working. Alan remembered he had simply touched it and it spoke to him, in a way. He could ‘see’ what was wrong with the device and had told Brains that a wire was connected in the wrong place. To his surprise, the object was working almost instantaneously upon repair.

That had just been a fluke, though. A lucky guess.

Then what had been that deal with what happened that morning with Fermat’s broken phone? Smashed by his foot, yet when he picked up and studied it, thinking about how he was going to get an earful from his father for breaking the phone...

His brow furrowed. He had thought it was merely a new invention of Brains – self-repairing electronics. That was what it had to be. That could not have possibly been him.

What if it was? What if he could fix the watch?

Staring at it, he waited for it to repair itself. For the wires he had taken from the exo-leg to properly connect to the phone motherboard and then to the watch. Fix the transmitter somehow.

Any second.

Any minute now.

Nope. It was still screwed up. It had been a dream, and those other instances just odd luck. Fermat just must not have known about his father’s new invention. That was why he had been unable to help Fermat out at the satellite relay station the day Thunderbird Five lost power. He had not connected with any such device, regardless of his panic. Alan was no superhuman. He was just a regular, scrawny Tracy.

“Sorry, Joshua… I guess I’m not getting this fixed after all… I don’t think I actually know more than I thought I did.” He closed his eyes, willing away the tears.  

“ _Alan? Can you see the stars, little buddy? I hope you can. They’re beautiful tonight. I swear, they’re dancing just for you._ ”

The teenager nearly leapt out of his skin at the sudden voice of John bursting from his earpiece. Pulling the device closer to his head and biting back the pain the movement caused, he listened in misery. His and John’s relationship with the stars was one thing that kept them close. He shared a connection with all his brothers, but the stars were special.

“ _Sprout, I don’t know if you can even hear me... but if there’s a chance you can, I just… I just want you to know how proud we all are of you, and how much we all love you. I wish I had more time, had more conversations. I wish I hadn’t tried to ask you about the bullying last night and instead continued talking about racecars or the stars. Buddy, you have no idea how much I regret telling the others to leave you alone for the night. For them to call you on Sunday. I…_ ”

There was a pause, causing Alan to wonder if he had lost the connection. Desperate, he placed his hands back on the devices, ready to adjust, when he heard something strange. What could that be? It was not a sound he associated with his second oldest brother.

It was a few minutes more of the growing louder and more desperate sound for Alan to place what it was – John was crying. No, check that. He was _sobbing_. John never broke down! At least, not to Alan’s memory.

The teenager wanted to reach out to him. Let him know that he was still alive and working hard to get out of there. That he would see the stars with his brother, even if he had to hijack Thunderbird Three and take it himself up to the space station. Then again, he would have his entire family after him for taking such a dangerous risk, especially since he had _no_ training on the spaceship. He was not even allowed to use any of the simulator programs for Thunderbird Three in the simulation room!

John’s sobs pulled at his heartstrings. Hearing the normally calm and collected Tracy bare his raw emotions in such a way was jaw dropping. He could not help himself as he whimpered, wishing he could get through to him. Comfort him. Wipe away those heart-wrenching tears.

“ _If you have passed on… I-I hope it was swift. I hope you didn’t… didn’t feel anything. If you’re still alive, please find some way to get a signal out. A transmission. Bang a pipe. Anything! Just let us know where you are, kiddo._ ”

Closing his eyes as the transmission ended, fresh tears threatened to spill from his eyes. Barely managing to hold them back, he made himself a vow. He would not allow himself to die here, buried underneath all this rubble and mayhem. He would figure out how to get out of this, somehow. Even if he had to hack his own leg off and crawl out. How, exactly, he would do that, he had not the foggiest clue, but the sentiment was there!

Then again, in this darkness, there was not anything he could do until he got some light. He had no flashlight in his toolkit.

He regained his composure, just barely after a few minutes of struggling with it. His lip wobbled as he tried to remain calm. Touching the sides of the watch, he wished his words would send, though he knew they would not. “John? Can you hear me? Please, I want to go home…” he whispered, hoping beyond hope that this would be what was needed to get him found. The wire sparked a bit, causing him to yelp in surprise, though no damage seemed to be done.

Upon receiving no response, he lowered his gaze, fighting against the misery that threatened to once more overtake him. For John to be sounding so desperate told Alan quite a lot – that whatever had happened was far worse than he had previously thought it was.

Shifting his head, he took in some more of the dripping water, thankful for the small grace in the otherwise bleak life he now led. Once he had his fill, he was grateful that the liquid at least stayed his growing hunger, if only by a little. What he would not do for one of Onaha’s dinners!

Sighing, he moved his head to a more comfortable position – well, as comfortable a slab of concrete could be. He knew that his family was here, somewhere. From what he could hear of the world above, there were no one else searching the area in the night. The Thunderbirds were shut down, it seemed. Why? He wished he could ask.

What were they up to? What was Fermat doing? Had he escaped the building? More than likely. Was he back at the hotel room? Alan hoped that his friend was staying calm and not losing it – that he had someone with him to keep the sensitive boy calm. What about Tin-Tin? Last time he had spoken to her, she was on her way out on an undercover mission in Malaysia with Lady Penelope and Parker a month ago. She was living with them now during the school year while taking in some classes with a private tutor while she furthered her own covert agent training.

Her family had recently gone to meet her in London as she was returning in a day while shopping for fresh supplies for the Island, as some things could only be found in England, such as his favorite chocolate. Had they heard the news? Had she?

How was his father fairing? Was he in the International Rescue mindset, where it was get the job done and hold back personal feelings? From the transmissions he managed to catch, that seemed to be the case. Other than John’s personal message, none of his brothers seemed to mention him at all.

Had he been wrong about their feelings towards him? Did they not care as much as he had thought they did? He had thought that things had changed between them all after the Hood’s invasion.

Perhaps it was merely because it was such a large rescue? Two large planes crashing into two buildings, no doubt hurting thousands. They could not take the time to think only of him, not when so many people were likely hurt or missing? He still did not know for sure what had happened, but he had finally come to the realization that this was no elevator crash nor a few simple floors collapsing. There was far too much rubble.

Closing his eyes, he tried to remember happier times. Being free of this prison and able to hang around the pool back home. He tried to think about a mission or two, or even sitting behind the wheel of a car that one of the older boys had allowed him to borrow for the science fair project race. Sure, Parker had given him a few driving lessons here and there, but nothing to the degree at which Alan Tracy had raced. The speed, the purr of the engine, and the adrenaline pumping through his veins...

Like his brothers, Alan had found his secondary calling – racing.

Would he ever race again? Feel the leather of the steering wheel beneath his fingers, the cool touch of the gear shift in his palm? The boost he was given when his foot slammed down on the gas pedal? The thrill of the chase? Of coming in first? Testing out his newly designed engine? The same engine that had won him first place at the convention?

The world made sense to him when he was behind the wheel or throttle, and his focus and quick reflexes made him a challenge on the ground and in the air. The world even made sense to him when he held technology in his hands, where it was just him and circuitry.

He smiled, thinking back on the race. The shocked expression of Joshua Matthews when he won and took back the science fair project. Joshua had not expected him to rise to the challenge. Alan usually tried to keep his head down in school, so he did not get into trouble with his father, nor had Joshua believed for even an instant that he would come in first.

To say that Alan had earned some respect that day was an understatement.

“Hey, Joshua, you remember our race?” he questioned, looking towards the pale lifeless face. “Oh, man, the look on your face when I out maneuvered you in that last turn is something I’ll never forget!” He gleefully talked, if only to fill the silence that surrounded him. At one point, he decided to turn on the recording feature of the watch – one of the only features other than the receiving transmissions that he managed to get working – so that way if he did not survive, his family could hear his voice one last time. A message from beyond the grave.

“Do you think that maybe if we had started off on a better footing, we could have been friends? Maybe if our families weren’t rivals? I was only twelve when I came to Wharton’s after blowing up that chemistry lab by accident, and you just seemed to sniff me out and go after me for no reason, though now I know the truth.”

“I never told Dad or my brothers about the bullying, well, except for John… not in so many words, but… anyway, you don’t have to worry about that. Not even Fermat knows it was you. He knows that we don’t like each other, but whenever you would physically attack me? No, I never told him who it was. Dad had told me to keep my head down and to stay out of trouble. If I had brought up that bullying was going on, he would have come to the Headmaster to try and find out who it was, or he would have pulled me out of Wharton’s altogether and transferred both me and Fermat to another school. Maybe one even farther away.”

He sighed, mentally and physically exhausted at this point, wanting to just sleep again but not allowing it to happen. It was possible that he would not wake up, or that he would be visited by the Hood once more. “I couldn’t do that to Fermat. Not again. He had liked Wilber’s Boarding School and its science program. Wharton’s was second best, but he still liked it there. I wasn’t about to get him transferred again. I would never hear the end of it from my brothers.”

Closing his eyes, he smiled. “Do you mind if I tell you about my brothers while we wait here? You know what your siblings say, but let me tell you what I see in them. Let me see... I’ll start with Scott. He’s thirteen years older than me! I know, big age difference. He’s a bit of a smother hen, actually. If something happens to one of us, he always tries to find out some way to help. He’s my big protector, my defender against anything. When I was little, before Mom died, there were people who would try to take me away. I was a small target, easy to grab. Scott always said I was too trusting. One time, a man nearly succeeded before Scott got ahold of him and beat him up. John helped him out.”

Such unpleasant memories were things he hated to remember. It was memories like that that had made him hate being a Tracy son.

“I don’t remember much about that day, but I remember being scared until my big brothers came to my rescue. Virgil held me until Gordon could bring Mom out.” A sad chuckle left his throat. “I can’t even tell you what she looked like. I barely have any memories of her face. Gordon once told me she gave the warmest hugs and baked the best cookies... All I remember about her is how much she loved the stars. She gave that love to me… The stars were our secret place. We could talk about anything beneath them, she had said.”

He mentally shrugged, clenching his eyes shut for a moment. He may never see the stars again. How he wished he could see them dancing like John said they were.

“Sorry, got off track. Scott went into the Air Force when he turned eighteen, and became a test pilot, flying all the latest planes and jets to come off the line. He only chose to give it up when International Rescue began. He took over flying Thunderbird One because it was most like his jets. He could go fast, maneuver quick, and speed to the rescue. When Thunderbird Two is too slow to arrive on the scene, or it’s strictly a solo mission, Scott can make Thunderbird One slaved to a control on his wrist. It’s rather neat, actually. Brains only just created the wireless links a little over a year ago, and now it’s become one of the top things we use, depending on the situation.”

Alan kept his eyes closed as he mentally pictured the sleek blue and silver machine. Thunderbird One’s familiarity calming him once more and bringing a smile upon his ashen face. “Scott can open up the new compartment doors of Thunderbird One and use magnetic cables to help people out, or to grab for jets falling from the sky. I’ve seen him at work before – he let me pilot while he did such a rescue. I was so glad he put so much faith in me that day. I didn’t mess up once, and everyone lived.”

A sigh left his lips as he thought about his oldest brother, his secondary father.

“Scooter’s the kind of brother that’s easy to approach. Maybe a bit too easy, as everyone goes to him or Dad. He’s like our second Dad. At least to me. Maybe because he’s so much older than me?” Alan paused as his head throbbed slightly, still reminding him that it was still there. In that instance the longing for his eldest brother grew heavily. He wanted nothing more than to feel the familiar strong arms around him, telling him everything was going to be okay. Sighing, the teenager knew that was not happening anytime soon.

“Ya know,” Alan started again, “I don’t know about anyone else, but he was there a lot for me. I could go to him when I needed something, even when I was in trouble and I did not want Dad to know…” He would miss Scott’s warm hugs the most. The late-night talks, the playful battles. Heck, he would even miss the smothering! He would gladly put up with smothering if it meant he could go home.

“How about John?” Alan’s hoarse voice continued, filling the silence. “We share a connection the others don’t – a love of the stars. I’ve always wanted to be an astronaut. Did you know that? My dream is to pilot Thunderbird Three amongst the stars. Maybe fly by Halley’s Comet one day, even! John doesn’t usually pilot any of our ships, but he runs the satellite that we call Thunderbird Five. He answers all the distress calls for help, sorting out those that truly need our help, and then dispatches us to where we need to go.

“Growing up, John and I would sit out under the stars, especially after Mom died. We’d just talk for hours, or until I fell asleep. It’s been a long time since we’ve done that. Not since I’ve been back home before the recent term.” Eyes darkening a bit, he sighed. ‘ _It’s been too long,_ ’ he thought morosely.

“We can talk about anything, when we get the chance. I spoke to John last night at the Astro Dome Observatory after I ditched the group for some alone time. He understands my need to be alone. My need to prove myself. My want for space travel. My annoyance that Dad still won’t teach me about flying ‘Three. Heh, he told me he’d help me convince Dad at Christmas to start training me. I was excited about that… Now I might never have another Christmas.”

How would his family react to another Christmas after losing one of their own? He had been too young to remember the first winter holiday after their mother’s death. Would they mourn? Celebrate?

“John told me he was proud of me. I’m not quite sure why he said it. It’s not like I’ve done anything to really be proud of. I mean, today when you and I got into a fight, I wasn’t doing anything to be proud of, but hey he’s proud of me. That’s something, I guess.”

Taking a deep breath, he shifted his broken arm to a more comfortable position, if only to dull the ache slightly. “Virgil is my third oldest brother. He’s ten years older than me. Our relationship always seemed strained, in my opinion. Don’t get me wrong, we get along great, but I always felt like there’s been something between us that isn’t quite right. I still love him though, and I know he loves me too. I’m very proud of him.”

A wistful smile crossed his face as he thought of his middle brother and his multitudes of talents – things that Alan could only wish he could do as well.

“Virgil’s gifted with music and art. He can perform a classic song after only practicing a few times it seems, and the pictures he paints are spectacular. No art show exhibition can top him. He can sell his paintings for millions, and often he donates most of the money to charities around the world, while the rest goes to keeping International Rescue operational. Not that Dad’s job at Tracy Enterprise doesn’t do a good enough job. Virgil just likes to contribute,” Alan smirked as he pictured his artistic brother. Ever humble, Alan was sure when his older brother heard – if he ever did – his words he would blush at such recognition. He would scold him for talking so much with such a hoarse voice, but Alan did not care. The silence was worse…

“Virge is also the family doctor. He graduated from high school at sixteen with a 4.0 GPA and a brilliant mind. He went into medicine young, and has treated more scrapes and bruises, among other things, in the years since graduating medical school. We’re all extremely proud of how he contributes to the team. I love sitting around and listening to him play, or watch him paint a gorgeous sunset. It’s quite relaxing, though I’ll never admit it to him. His music has always soothed me to sleep. Whenever I just need to relax, I put on some of his music, and all my worries melt away. Maybe when they find my body, he’ll finally know that.”

Focusing his eyes on the steady red light of the recording feature, he was pleased that it was indeed working. At least, he hoped it was. He had managed to find that the microphone was working, just the transmitter was shot.

“Gordon... where do I begin? We’re closest in age. That’s probably why we get along so well. He’s only seven years older than me. He’s our water baby, as Scott so affectionately calls him. You can always find him in the water. He also hates pants with a passion. You’ll usually find him in swim trunks or just shorts in general, and a t-shirt or open Hawaiian shirt. Hell, I’m pretty sure if he could get away with it, he’d go around naked. Yeah, no. That’s not something I want to see,” Alan chortled at that horrifying image and coughed as some of the dust managed to make its way to his throat.

“He was in an accident a few years ago, if you remember me mentioning, and hurt his back. With perseverance and training, he went to the Olympics and brought home the gold. I remember being there when he won. I’m pretty sure our family was cheering the loudest when that happened,” Alan grinned once more at the happy memory. “After the Olympics, he retired from professional swimming and became the team aquanaut, specializing in underwater rescues. You remember Thunderbird Four from when you were on the monorail? That’s his Thunderbird. He’s very proud of it, even if it is so small. Thunderbird Four can go so deep underwater. Once, Gordon rescued some deep-sea explorers from the Mariana Trench! Yup, Gordon goes places that the rest of us wouldn’t even consider.”

‘ _Including pranks,_ ’ Alan internally groaned at the memory of his closest older brother’s recent prank.

“He dyed my hair red this summer. I stupidly got so mad at him… took and hid his scuba gear underneath the floorboards of my closet. If I get the chance, that’s what I’m going to tell him right away. He’ll be so happy to have his gear back. I’m sure the first thing he’ll do is go deep-sea swimming. It was so… pathetic of me to do that to him over a little joke… I’m so sorry…”

He would miss Gordon the most if he died. All those years of pulling pranks together and causing utter mayhem on the island was now in the past.

“As for Dad... First astronaut to step foot on Mars, a national and world hero. He came back and started up a business to further space research. In the process, funding a lot of major projects and making billions in the process. I don’t remember much about how he was after Mom died, so I can’t tell you anything about that, but when he got himself back together, he created International Rescue. He didn’t want what happened to Mom to happen to anyone else. The organization’s sole purpose to be there when others were unable.”

Alan swallowed, wishing and praying that maybe his watch was working, and his family would interrupt him. That maybe he was not only recording his ramble, but also transmitting. Closing his eyes as his tired body ached, he waited for an answer he knew was not coming.

_Silence._

Opening his eyes, he glanced once more over toward Joshua and continued. “My Dad helped Brains design each of them, though Brains did most of the work. See, Dad’s number one goal is to help others. That includes my brothers and myself. He raised us to be helpful and to think of others before ourselves. Out of all my brothers, I think I’m the one that failed him in that aspect. For a long time, I only thought of myself and what I wanted. I’m sure I’m nothing more than a disappointment in his eyes.”

The blond teenager almost chuckled at Joshua’s earlier words. “You say I’m just like my brothers. Your rival. When you compare me to all of them, it’s no competition. I’m the weakest, the smallest, and the one with the least to contribute. Yeah, I want to be an astronaut, but what qualifications do I have? Scott flies ‘One because of his days in the Air Force. John’s up in the satellite because communications is his forte. Virgil pilots ‘Two because he has the intuition for getting out of tight situations, and the medical knowledge necessary for the primary rescue vessel. Gordon charges Thunderbird Four because he too is so intuitive in his natural element. We call him Fish-feet for a reason.”

He sighed softly.

“Me? My special talent is nothing more than being able to drive really fast without managing to get myself killed. Maybe designing a racing engine or two. I’m nothing compared to them. Even Fermat is a genius! He’ll be able to help his father out with his inventions! Tin-Tin will take after Lady Penelope and become a special agent. Covert Operations, I believe the term is. She’s already in training and going on missions. I think Brains is even designing a small Thunderbird just for her, if I read those blueprints correctly. Thunderbird Shadow.”

Closing his eyes yet again, he gave a long sigh. “I just hope they all know how much I love them. How proud and honored I am to be able to call them my family. If I don’t make it out of here, I’m sure going to miss them. If I do make it out of here, I’m going to make sure they know how much I love them. I can’t remember the last time we said it to one another. I wish I had started saying it more. Let them know how grateful I am that they are my family.”

He glanced over at Joshua’s still form for a moment before closing his eyes. Opening them back up again, he stared at the leaking pipe, or at least where he thought it was.

“I want to tell Dad about the subroutine I put in the computer and why. I’m so sorry… The only reason I did it was so that way you would not get any of the school announcements or important dates. Then you wouldn’t feel so bad about having to cancel or not being able to make it. The rescue business comes first, no matter how much I wish you all could have come to my track and field meets, to the school programs, or even when I won my first race in the underground racing circuit.” Alan internally winced at that revelation.

“Yeah… Sorry, I could not give up racing. One race was all it took, and I became addicted. The thrill of the race, the adrenaline coursing through the veins… I don’t know how to quite describe it that would make sense, but I love it so much. Maybe become a racer after I graduated? You’d all be disappointed in me. I should have been doing something useful, like learning medicine like Virgil, or becoming a communications expert like John, or a test pilot like Scott, or even an Olympian like Gordon. No, I instead wasted myself on racing… such a dangerous sport that you all don’t even watch the races on TV.”

A weak, sad chuckle left his throat. So many missed opportunities…

“If you guys knew… if you only knew how much I loved it, then maybe you’d change your minds about the sport. Maybe I could finally fit in with all of you. Make you proud of me… I just wish…” he closed his eyes, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill. He would never truly make his family proud. “No, it doesn’t matter…”

Licking his lips, he realized that he had left out the rest of his family. His extended family from the Island, all brought together for and by one purpose – his father’s dream.

“Fermat, Tin-Tin, you guys are my greatest friends. You guys understood me. Fermat is the best guy friend that I could have asked for. He’s smart, funny, and puts up with all my bullshit. He helped me put that engine I designed together, though he had been positive it would not work. I surprised him with something by not only making it work, but making it a winning race engine. That’s why he had wanted me to enter it into the convention, though I only did so if he entered it with me.”

Alan smiled as he fondly thought of his speckled best friend. “Ferm, you’re going to make an amazing engineer one of these days. You’re smarter than even your father, though I know you doubt yourself. I hope you aren’t beating yourself up that I’m down here. I’m glad you made me go to that convention. You helped me see that maybe I’m not as stupid as I and everyone else thinks I am. You’re the only one at school who believed that I could do something worthwhile. That I could be worthwhile.” He thought for a moment before laughing. “Go ahead and show Gordon where his scuba gear is, too. I know you know where it is.”

His thoughts shifted to his other best friend, a small smile on his face. “Tin-Tin, you might be the daughter of our gardener, but there’s no one else – other than, you know, Fermat – that I’d rather hang out with. You’re brave, courageous, and beautiful. Apparently, there’s a pool going on whether or not we were going to end up together. I can’t promise that the thought didn’t cross my mind. I have to admit it. I have a major crush on you. I’ve had one for a long time. Hell, I was going to ask you to the winter dance!” He laughed at the thought.

“Tin,” Alan longed, dreaming of her sweet encouraging smile. “You believed in me. You kept my head level when the Hood invaded. You saved my life that day. You are amazing, and you will do great things when you become a covert operator. I hope that I’ll be there to see it. You’ll be able to help Dad, Lady P, and Parker out on missions that otherwise could not be done. I can’t wait for you to see the ‘Bird that Brains is designing for you. From what I saw, she’s going to be a beauty! Just like you. _Saya mencintaimu kawanku_ , Tin-Tin. _Tolong, jangan lupa saya.”_

His thoughts then turned to his sometimes-forced-to-be babysitters. “Parker, who unknowingly taught me all those racing moves. You taught the three of us self-defense. Nosey, you’re a fun guy. I hope you realize how much we all love you. Forget about your checkered past – you’re amazing. The stories you would tell me filled my dreams with adventure. You are by far my most favorite ex-con. Take care of Fermat for me. Make sure he keeps up with his self-defense training. He looks up to you so much.”

Alan’s thoughts traveled to their favorite Lady in Pink. “Lady P… When I think of you, I think that maybe, just maybe, that you’re what a mother is. I can admit that now. I know you make Dad happy, even if you guys aren’t dating – at least, I don’t think you are. I don’t know if the guys see you as a Mom, but I do. Maybe it’s because other than the stars, I have no true memory of my own mother other than the avalanche. I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable. I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate you and what you’ve done for us. How happy you’ve made us…” He gulped, flinching at the gritty taste that he could not be rid of.

“Kyrano, Onaha, you guys are spectacular. Helping the way you do. Tending to the gardens and home, as well as making sure we’re all fed. Onaha, when you team up with Grandma to bake desserts is my favorite times of year. The whole Island would smell of cookies and cakes, and though we weren’t allowed to have any, since you were making them for charities, that didn’t stop me from stealing a few and stashing them away. Sorry about that. You guys are my _keluarga kedua. Saya suka kamu berdua.”_

Onaha, Kyrano… if only they knew how much he looked up to them! Their calm serenity and always listening ear, helping him sort out some of his thoughts that he did not feel he could talk to his family about…

“Brains, the amazing man who made Dad’s dream come true. You designed the most incredible machines in the world, though Dad helped. Our rescue vehicles. Every day, you improve on them. You make it possible for us to do what we do. You’re like the crazy uncle we all love. You came to our school events, not just for Fermat, but for me too. This past convention, I was so excited to see you there. I half expected you to have dragged Dad along, but then I remembered that he knew nothing about it. Thank you for keeping my secret. As much as I wished my family had been there, I realize that they were there through you. We had a lot of fun at that convention, didn’t we?”

He chuckled a bit, thinking on how silly he was being. All these words, these hidden secrets, bubbling forth from his lips like an unstoppable flood. Part of him wanted to shut off the recording. To give in to his own despair. To admit defeat and pass on. Be with his mother again.

“I put up a hell of a fight. I’m still kicking, and if I’m still alive when the light comes back, I’m going to fix the transmitter in my watch, so I can signal for help. I’m positive that dream I had with the Hood was just a dream… I think… It felt so real, though… Anyway, if I can’t signal for help… Well, it doesn’t matter.”

Thinking for a moment, he realized how much his heart ached for his large family. It was not just the Tracys he wanted, but the Belegants, Hackenbackers, Parker, and Lady Penelope. He wanted to see them all again! Hold them close, and never let them go. Do some smothering of his own. Maybe date Tin-Tin, and if things worked out, marry and eventually have children with her.

His throat clenched as he uselessly forced the tears down. He wanted to go home. He wanted to never leave again. “I… I want to get out of here. I want to live! I want to touch the stars and be an asset to my family instead of a burden. I-I-I don’t want to die alone! Someone, get me out of here! Please!” Burning tears streamed down his dirt and blood encrusted face, his body shuddering as he struggled against crying. Tracys did not cry!

His efforts were useless as his shoulders shook hard. Agony flowed through him at the sharp movements jarring his broken body. How could this be happening? How could he be here alone? How had no one heard his screams? How could it be so cruelly possible that he could hear the voices of his family, yet could not respond? He could hear their pain, and their longing. They wanted him back as much as he wanted them. Wanted to be held. Wanted to laugh. Joke. Be a family.

He wanted to be a racer. An International Rescue agent. He wanted a girlfriend. He wanted to one day be married, if he were so lucky. He wanted a life all his own, but one that he could finally share with those he loved.

He was scared. Absolutely petrified that he would die down here alone without ever apologizing to his family that he was a selfish jerk. The fear sent waves of tension throughout his body, which tensed in response and returned the waves with pain from his broken bones. Still, he could not stop sobbing.

“Anyone! I want to go home! P-Please! Scott, John, Gordon, Virgil, Dad! Someone… please… I’ll stop being so selfish! I’ll be better! I’ll make you proud! I just want to go home! Please! Please! Please! Don’t let me die down here! Please bring me home! I’m not ready to die! I’m not ready to go with Mom!”

Without quite realizing it, he finally ended the recording minutes later while he sobbed hard, thinking of all he was going to lose if he gave in and died here.

Sobs slowly turned into hiccups. Hiccups turned into soft snuffling. Snuffling turned to gentle snores. Snores turned to another dream…

When he next opened his eyes, weak sunlight was streaming down to him, barely illuminating the space he resided. A new day had begun. He had lived through the night. Now he had to make sure he lived long enough to be found. Picking up his tools, he set out to work.


	6. New Age

_ 9/12 – 8:00 a.m. GMT / 3:00 a.m. EST _

**FAB-One**

“Bring the car around, Parker,” Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward stated as she pulled the plug on the bath. “Wake Tin-Tin as well, please, and give her my condolences for waking her. Be sure to avoid her throwing the alarm clock at your head again.” Though the memory of Tin-Tin’s half-awake induced angry telekinetic throw of the device at the butler’s head usually brought an amused smile to her face, at the moment not even that could bring her any sort of joy.

“Very well, Milady. I shall grab my helmet,” the pug-nosed butler responded as he left the large pink bathroom while holding a silver platter and doing his best to not tremble.

She watched him for a moment, her lovely gray eyes visibly troubled at the disturbing news on her bathroom television-computer.

Just two hours ago, she, Tin-Tin, and Parker had returned from their month-long undercover mission in Malaysia. It had gone swimmingly thanks to Tin-Tin’s knowledge of the local customs. A familiarity she acquired after growing up on the Asian Pacific region before her family had been rescued from the Hood’s imprisonment.

Upon arriving, she and Tin-Tin had both gone for relaxing morning baths with bubbles and lavender oil, shedding off the dirt and grime of the long month. While Tin-Tin had already retired to bed in her guest room, Penelope had stayed up to soak for a while longer and watch the global news to find out what had been missed while they had been away.

That was when she had seen what had taken place in New York the day prior. Terrorist attacks in the United States. All aircraft had been grounded? A world in terror? How had she missed this news? Worst yet, International Rescue had arrived too late to save anyone before the mighty skyscrapers collapsed, leaving well over two thousand people trapped.

Only a handful had been rescued alive.

As she continued to watch, it was announced that two Port Authority officers had been found in the rubble, still alive, and were currently being dug out. She could see on the screen that two of the Tracys were amongst the diggers, using their exo-skeletons.

Lifting herself out of the water and stepping onto the plush bath mat, she toweled herself off with a fluffy pink towel and went into her closet, taking out her pink and white jumpsuit and dressing herself quickly.

International Rescue being late to such a disaster was not good. Why had such a thing occurred? They should have made it there quickly! Something else was at work, and that disturbed her greatly. Had they been invaded again? No, that could not be it. They had made it to the scene. Then what?

“Lady Penelope?” Tin-Tin questioned, startling the London Agent out of her thoughts.

Penelope looked over at the Malaysian girl that had started blossoming into a beautiful young woman full of intellect and power. Dressed in a new gold and brown with red trimmings garment from Malaysia, with her dark hair naturally wavy and falling around her shoulders, the blonde had to smile fondly at her young charge. “There has been an incident in New York, and I believe we are needed.”

Tin-Tin’s brown eyes shifted over to the television, focusing intensely on what was going on. “The Towers…?”

“I’m afraid there’s been a terrorist attack, my dear. I wish this was more of a pleasure visit, but unfortunately, we will be doing some heavy lifting. Pack your bags, if you have already unpacked, and change into your uniform with utmost haste.”

Tin-Tin nodded and turned away, hurrying back to her room to change and gather her things.

Only when the trio had boarded FAB-One, her specialized Rolls-Royce, did Penelope open communications with the Tracys. “Lady Penelope to International Rescue.”

A holo-form opened after a few moments, and Jeff appeared, looking worse for wear. Penelope was almost startled by the changes she could see in her old friend. He looked as if he had aged several years in just a few hours! His blue eyes were weary and worn, and the exhaustion was clear. “ _Penelope, I see your mission ended? How did it go?_ ” he questioned.

“It fared much better than the turn of events I see happened in New York yesterday. I will give you my full report when you return to Paradise. I see that you are on scene. How is the rescue of those officers coming along?” She chose not to bring up the hundreds that had yet to be found or identified. Jeff knew that already, so there was no point in her bringing it up again.

“ _We’re almost to one of them. The other one is much father down. Only stopped to take a brief break. We were just called on to rejoin the efforts. Scott’s resting for the night with Fermat, and Gordon’s in the hospital. He fell through the rubble and took a rod to the leg. He’ll be up and driving us crazy soon enough._ ”

“I see. Parker, Tin-Tin, and I are on our way. Sounds like you could use some help.”

Jeff frowned, seeming to zone a bit, before looking at her wistfully. “ _Hello, Tin-Tin,_ ” he said softly.

She smiled. “Hello, Commander. We’ll be along to help you very soon. It’ll be nice to have us all back together again, though I wish it was under different circumstances.” She frowned, noticing the pain that crossed his face. “Sir?”

“ _Alan… Alan is here._ ”

Lady Penelope nodded. “Ah, his fall break training! How is that going? I’m surprised you allowed him to participate in this particular rescue.”

“I concur, Milady. This seems a wee bit much for him,” Parker added from the front. “I shouldn’t think that Tin-Tin and Fermat would be participating, too.”

“ _Alan is not training_ ,” Jeff responded stiffly, and Penelope noticed right away that something was amiss. “ _He did not come home for fall break, instead going on a two-week field trip for school._ ”

She threw out a lure, hoping to get a proper answer out of him. “Ah, he must have come up to-”

The patriarch cut her off, his voice hard and forced with emotion threatening to seep out. “ _Penny, he was in the South Tower when it collapsed. We can’t find him._ ”

To his credit, Parker managed to remain focused on the road at that startling bit of news, his eyes only glancing in the rearview mirror to his charges in the back. Tin-Tin’s manicured nails dug into the leather paneling on the door, her breath catching in her throat as she closed her eyes almost in pain.

Penelope let her expression shine through as she stared at the holo-Jeff. “Are you certain?” she whispered. A great part of her hoped that Jeff had simply been mistaken. That the Tracy family was not about to take another personal hit in the form of another death in the family. Surely, the fates would not be so cruel.

Sadly, Jeff simply nodded. “ _Positive. We were talking to him when the second plane hit, and John placed him in an elevator when the building ultimately collapsed. From there, we have not heard from him and have since lost his signal._ ”

She closed her eyes for a moment, refocusing herself. She could hear the strain in his voice. The forced calm that would break the moment they found Alan, if they ever did. She had only heard Jeff this way once – when the Hood had nearly killed Alan in front of them. She could still remember the father’s desperate pleas for the Hood to leave his son alone. To let him live.

She reached over and squeezed Tin-Tin’s hand to calm her a bit. She knew the inner turmoil the teenager felt. “Calm yourself, Tin-Tin,” she murmured. “ _Mereka akan mendapati dia._ They will find him.” Turning her attention back to her holographic friend, her eyes sharpened. “We will be there within hours, Jeff.”

He shook his head. “ _No, wait. I want you to go to the security prison. Find out if **he** has anything to do with this._”

“The Hood?” Penelope frowned, but nodded her consent. Interrogation, interviews, covert missions were her specialty, not physical labor, though she would have gladly joined the boys on scene. She wanted to find Alan. Give her friend the peace of mind he deserved, and if this was the way to go about it, she would. “We shall and report back in.”

“ _F.A.B._ ”

“I wish you luck finding Alan and all those poor people,” she sighed as the holo-link disconnected. Closing her eyes, she tried not to focus on the images she had seen on the television. The destruction and death. “Parker, to the H.O.O.P, please,” she requested.

Parker nodded, setting a course to the Hostile Outlaw Observation Prison located high in the skies, currently over the Atlantic Ocean. It was a prison where only the worst of the worst were located, with their number one outlaws being the Hood – Trangh Belegant – and his goons.

“Wait. We should pick up my father,” Tin-Tin hissed, doing her best to keep her emotions in check, her hand shooting up to her quartz necklace, a gift from Alan when they had first met several years before. “We were supposed to meet up today while they picked up supplies. His telepathy will be a great aid to us. My Uncle would not dare lie.”

“Yes, Tin-Tin, you are right. With Kyrano’s telepathy, he will be able to help us greatly in weeding out the answers we seek.” She looked thoughtful as she adjusted her headset, sparing a glance at Tin-Tin. While Alan and Tin-Tin were not an official couple, everyone who knew them could see that they were, as the Americans put it, into each other. Penelope was aware that Tin-Tin was greatly worried for her friend, and would possibly lose her focus if she could not keep herself calm. “Parker?”

“Yes, Milady.” Luckily, the Belegants were not far from their location, so stopping to pick them up was an easy task for the ex-con driver. Truthfully, he was not looking forward to running into the Hood yet again, and if having extra help with them could help with their cause, he was glad to make the quick detour.

Tin-Tin trembled a bit, closing her eyes tightly as the car drove along, paying no attention to how much time passed. She did not even notice when her father was picked up, nor her mother trying to get her attention before they left without her.

The sixteen-year-old stared at the floor as she listened, reeling in her emotions and thoughts as her father had taught her, lest she release her own power. Unlike her uncle, who had both telekinetic and some telepathic power, Tin-Tin’s was strictly telekinetic. As such, when she allowed her emotions to take total control over her, things would literally go flying.

Her father on the other hand, was telepathic in nature. While not as strong as his paternal half-brother, when he combined his abilities with his daughter, they became a being as strong as the Hood.

Studying the carpeting and how extraordinarily clean it was, she found herself drifting. Had she and Alan only been talking a month prior about what they would be doing for their families for Christmas? Alan had said that he had to get a jumpstart on thinking about Christmas presents so he could have them ready to go and expertly hidden.

Becoming a game of sorts, the island inhabitants would always try to best the teenager in discovering where their presents were hidden only days prior to the holiday. It was one of her favorite holiday activities, the scavenger hunt. It kept their holidays exciting and new every year.

Would that happen this year? Would she have to hide the presents alone, as he had invited her to help him this time? Could she bring herself to do so? To continue the tradition in his honor?

She was not sure if she could, and the heart-wrenching terror that he was gone made the flying car shake. Her focus was starting to slip. Alan, her best friend, could be lost. Even worse, if the Hood was involved, her family could be indirectly a part of this horrifying disaster.

She was related to a monster. A monster who had possibly caused the terror now playing out in New York. How could she ever look at any of the Tracys again if it were true? If Alan became lost?

She would have to leave the island, along with her whole family. They would be blamed, would they not? Rightfully so, being related to a murderer. They had been given a chance before, after the Hood had invaded. Only because the Belegants had been attacked too, had Jeff given them leniency. Right? She was not one bit sure. If someone had done that to her, she would have forced them out. Never look upon them again.

Alan, the most troublesome person on the island, the wild child of the Tracy clan. It always seemed like no matter what Alan attempted, he got into trouble. She had only known him a few short years – since they were nine, she believed – and even then, she only saw him a handful of times out of the year in the physical aspect, but they talked a lot over holo-videos.

Whenever he and Fermat left for school, she felt left out, though she knew she could not attend. Not with her abilities. One mistake, one wrong person knowing, and she would be taken away from all she knew. That had happened many years ago once, and it was Jeff Tracy that reunited her with her family. It was only recently that she gained real control over her abilities – enough that she could live off-Island with Lady Penelope.

It was Alan that had become her first friend. Being the same age, they had latched on together like glue. They did a lot of things that Fermat was not able to, though they invited him multiple times. The duo preferred physical activities, such as rock climbing or hiking – even diving! Between the two of them, they had charted most of the Island together. It was how they had survived for so long running from the Hood and his goons. It was how they had kept hidden while sneaking around.

Whenever they did short hikes, they would take Fermat, or when they were taking hover or dirt bikes. Long hikes were something that only she and Alan did together, as Fermat’s asthma would not allow him to handle such things. He had barely survived all the running _that_ day.

What would she not give to go on one last hike with her friend? One last trip around the Island to their secret spot near the satellite relay tower? The hidden spot where they would lay out and Alan would tell her about his precious stars?

Would she ever be able to look at the stars again and not think of him?

“Tin-Tin?” Penelope asked softly, gently placing a hand on the teenager’s shoulder and pulling her from her thoughts. “Dearest, they will find him. Alive or not, they will find him.”

She closed her eyes, trying to scrub her mind of the images of her friend being buried alive. Lost and alone. “What about Fermat?”

“From what I’ve been able to find out from contacting Virgil just now while you were drifting, is that Fermat escaped the buildings long before they collapsed. He is fine and at their hotel, waiting to find a way back home.”

She nodded, pleased that at least one of her friends was safe for sure. Alive. Not buried. She wanted to contact him, to talk to him. Catch up. Anything! Just to hear his voice and reassure herself that she had not lost him, too. Yet, she knew that it was about three in the morning right now, and Fermat was hopefully able to sleep. She could not disrupt him. He had had a rough day and needed all the rest he could get.

Lifting her head, she looked out the window, reminiscing of the day Alan had flown Thunderbird One to London, England, to stop the Hood. That was the day she realized just why Alan was so infatuated with the speed and sleekness of the ship. What Thunderbird One lost in bulk and power was made up in speed and quick maneuvering capabilities.

Alan had handled the plane magnificently; a natural pilot. She had known in the time it took to get to London that Alan would one day prove International Rescue proud. Now? Now she was not so sure. It had been almost a day since the collapse of the Twin Towers, and so many were dead. She found it hard to believe that he could still possibly be alive. If she was like her uncle, perhaps she could have sought him out, tried to establish a mental link. Even combined with her father, she would not be able to. She was not strong – not yet. She had only been training, finessing her abilities over the years, as they had only awakened a few short months before the invasion.

Reaching into her pocket, she brought out a perfectly round cut amethyst marble, focusing on it as her eyes slit and the object floated into the air, twisting and turning around and through her fingers like a dance. When she was bothered by something, she would pull out this marble. Given to her by Alan himself on her fifteenth birthday, she would mentally play with it, using it to work her power. To focus and hone it.

Beside her, Penelope and her father watched with interest, a pleased smile gracing her father’s aged features. Kyrano was delighted in how far his daughter had come since fully awakening and accepting her abilities at fourteen. Since then, he had been training her on how to properly harness the ability without tiring herself out too much. She had so much raw ability that he was positive she would eventually become stronger than his half-brother.

He had asked Lady Penelope and Parker to train her in other ways as well, such as to become an International Rescue covert agent like the duo. Tin-Tin already qualified in the gymnastics and physical type for a fighter and spy. Kyrano and Onaha sought to enhance her talents so that she could be the best she could. Just like how Brains had placed his son into highly advanced classes in school, as the young Hackenbacker had shown that he was just as smart, if not more brilliant, than his father.

As for Alan, Kyrano knew that he had undiscovered talents. He had a gift for mechanics and understanding machinery in a way that the aged gardener had never seen. Inventing a few small things, that Alan could do, but give him a large engine, and he could tell you what kind it was and the components. He could not build anything from scratch without help, but give him something broken and within minutes or hours, it would be working like new or better than new.

Ever since his half-brother had invaded the Island and discovered the child, Kyrano had known something was off. Trangh had even come to Kyrano and questioned him about the Tracy son, confused about something he had felt in his mind. Wondering how Alan was able to fight off his mental attacks. Wanting to know exactly who he was, and where had he gotten his abilities.

Later, when Alan had taken Lady Penelope, Tin-Tin, Fermat, and Parker to the London incident, he had seen just what his brother had meant by abilities. Kyrano had never seen Jeff, any of the older Tracy boys, nor Brains, show the younger children how to operate the Thunderbirds. Yet the youngest Tracy had taken control, calling out orders to Fermat while the younger boy piloted Thunderbird Two. Alan had taken Thunderbird Four down into the Thames River before calling down Tin-Tin with a rescue wire.

With Alan’s guidance, the people on the monorail lived to see another day.

After the arrest of the Hood, the gardener had discovered that Alan had changed even further. Not in major ways, but in small, discreet areas. Little things around the villa would randomly start working again after the teenager had touched them. Or that Alan could outmaneuver Scott in Thunderbird One time and time again.

Kyrano had asked him about it one time, and his reply had the man questioning what exactly he had meant.

_“When I’m behind the wheel of a car, or the throttle of a Thunderbird, or even working with machines, the world just makes sense.”_

Perhaps he would have to speak to his brother on this situation after all, now that he was given the opportunity to question him. He had avoided his brother, despite his questions, for this long. Was it worth questioning now, though, when he might never see the child again?

Yet, somehow, Kyrano could sense that Alan was still alive. It was a faint sliver of a connection that if he focused upon it, it would vanish no matter how carefully he grasped for it. Perhaps it was merely hope. What if it was something more? Then again, what if it were something less and he gave the Tracys false hope?

“On final approach, Milady,” Parker spoke from up front, startling him from his thoughts. Kyrano glanced over at his daughter, who was putting her marble away.

“It would appear so. Excellent flying as always, Parker,” Penelope responded, looking up through the bulletproof tinted glass roof at the floating prison. This was one place she rather disliked. Not for appearances, but for what it held within.

H.O.O.P looked, as the name suggested, a giant hoop made of red metal and kept afloat with special thrusters fueled by solar energy. Currently, its home was above the Atlantic Ocean, but that would only be for a few hours as it traveled through the skies around the world, never staying in one spot for very long.

Tin-Tin stared at the prison as Parker requested permission to land. Once grounded, she instantly put up her mental walls as her father had taught her the moment she felt the Hood, her uncle, seek her out. “Dad?”

“I feel him too, daughter. Keep your walls up until I tell you, and we will be fine,” Kyrano eased as he stepped out of the vehicle to a waiting Parker. Putting his hand out, he helped Lady Penelope and his daughter climb out as well. “We will find our answers here,” he spoke to the pink-and-white-jumpsuit-clad socialite. “My brother has connections all over the world. If he is responsible, we will find out soon enough. Perhaps he will be gracious enough to tell us what he knows if he is not responsible.”

The blonde smiled at him. “Quite right. Come along, our quarry is this way.” Leading the way, she entered the prison with a retinal scan, confirming her identity, as did Parker. Speaking to the guard, she introduced her guests, not giving the trigger phrase that she was compromised.

Tin-Tin looked around the opening room as they were allowed inside the floating fortress. Stark white walls, linoleum flooring, and sharply dressed workers in military uniforms from several different countries. This prison was an international affair, with no one country having complete control over it.

She shivered, goosebumps running up her arms beneath her white with gray-hemmed uniform. This place gave her the creeps.

“The Hood has not had any contact with the outside world. No phone calls, has lead-lined walls, and no contact with any other prisoners. Only the highest ranked guards are allowed to guard him,” one of the guards, a Sgt. Hart, spoke to the elders of their small group.

Tin-Tin glanced at the man, a frown on her face when she noticed he was staring at her. Quickly, she diverted her gaze as a force of habit. Only upon remembering her training did she meet him in the eye, staring him down.

Lady Penelope nodded in response to the man. “In light of recent events, we have reason to suspect that something has gone wrong.” Very wrong, she had wanted to add.

“He can reach through your walls,” Kyrano spoke up at last, looking at the taller man.

“How could you possibly know that?” Sgt. Hart questioned, offended. “There is no way he can reach through the walls!”

“Kyrano and his daughter are the Hood’s relatives. Do not worry; they are loyal to International Rescue. The Hood dislikes them greatly,” Penelope interrupted before things could get out of hand. “Kyrano is here to help us out. Tin-Tin is here for observation for her training.”

“I see… I will accompany you to our interrogation room. Follow me, please.” The man turned and walked along the long corridors in a brisk pace, the group walking quickly in order to keep up. “You will have to wear these lead helmets to help protect your minds.” He passed them around, with the Belegants refusing to take one.

Tin-Tin and her father mentally prepared themselves, building up their defensives and locking away their emotions from the personal issues that had brought them here instead of using the helmets that would block their own abilities.

Brushing herself slightly, Penelope turned towards Parker, who had placed his helmet upon his head while she did the same. “Are you ready, Parker?”

“As ever, Milady,” he responded, addressing her respectfully. He was not looking forward to this unfriendly reunion, nor was he quite sure if he would be able to reel in his temper if he discovered the man had caused injury yet again to the Tracys.

“Shall we?” The question was rhetorical, as the door opened and the four entered the room, where one man sat on the opposite side of the table, skin gaunt and dressed in an orange jumpsuit. “Hood,” she greeted. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a prisoner,” he responded simply, looking over the group with a cold gaze in his olive eyes. “I trust you are all faring well?”

“Far better than you are, I’m afraid,” she replied. “I assume you know why we are here?”

“Ah, straight to the point as always, Lady Penelope. I was about to ask you what I have done for you to grace me with the honor of your presence. Perhaps even offer you some tea.” He focused eyes on her, almost wanting to attack her, but resisted. Now was not the time, as amusing as this all was. “Rest assured, I had nothing to do with this unfortunate predicament. Everything I do is for a reason. Never any needless death, unless it is against my enemies, just as I explained to the boy.”

Tin-Tin glanced at her father, brow furrowed. Was he talking about…

“The boy?” Penelope questioned.

“Alan, yes. I am aware of his imprisonment. Shame, really, how he will not be found in time if he does not awaken himself. He is so gifted,” the Hood frowned slightly, eyes flickering towards his brother and niece, “as I’m sure you have sensed. _Anda tahu apa yang saya katakan, bajingan._ ”

Neither responded, though Tin-Tin could sense her father tensing at the insult.

“We are not here about Alan, nor whatever you meant. Only you would have caused something like this devastation, Hood,” Penelope interrupted. She would interrogate Kyrano later. Besides, the Hood was notorious for his mind games – and trying to use Alan against them would be something he would do. Give them false hope.

Flicking his olive eyes back to her intense gray ones, he spoke. “As I said, I am not responsible for this, though I have suspicions on who might be. A group of radicals that call themselves Al-Qaeda. They operate out of the Middle East and want nothing more than to put the world into chaos for religious reasons. Silly, do you not agree?”

“Very. The time of religious wars are long since over,” she retorted. “Stop speaking such nonsense. I have heard of no such group.”

“Ah, but did you not realize? We are in a new age, Lady Penelope. A world that will erupt into war very soon. Corruption will overcome all. This is not an idea of mine. What profit would I receive by being in here? I fear this new age, as you do, as I fear how Jeff Tracy will retaliate if his little _raksasa_ dies in that rubble.”

Penelope’s eyes narrowed at the insult to Alan. Calling him a monster? How very rude! “What are you talking about?” Yes, like everyone, Penelope knew that Jeff was a family man and very protective over his children. That protectiveness had spilled over into his sons, who protected each other fiercely, though they would tease each other. Was the Hood trying to tell her that if Alan was not found alive, International Rescue would...

“Go to war,” he spoke, as if reading her mind. “Your worry is apparent in your eyes. I know what it is you fear. Those mighty machines used for death instead of life. It is very possible that is what will come to pass if Alan Tracy does not awaken his gift and find a way to escape his imprisonment. _Sayang sekali_.”

“What gift?” Tin-Tin finally asked, stepping forward despite her fear and hatred of the man. “ _Paman, apa maksud awak?_ ”

The bald man looked towards her, and then at his brother, who had taken a step forward with his daughter. “Do not tell me that you, like him, have the observational skills of a potato.”

“You speak of his mechanical abilities. His connection,” Kyrano questioned.

The bald brother smiled darkly. “Yes, dear brother. You, like I, know exactly what he is. A _mekanik_ , gifted with an ability to understand machines. He is one of us – a _Berbakat_. Rare indeed, brother. A lost branch of our own family, you could say, though he shares no blood connections. Perhaps, somewhere along his ancestral line, there is a genetic anomaly. How none of his brothers, gifted as they are, were born with the ability instead of the family runt is surprising. The _mekanik_ gene is very rare. Perhaps not even whole generations will it show.”

He knew he was giving them completely different information to what he had given Alan, but he did not care. Such games were entertaining. “That Alan was born with such a gift is incredible. Feasibly, that would explain why Jeff pushes his son away, do you not agree? Pathetic. Simply dreadful to push away your own kin, especially when you are not even aware of it. Especially when that specific gene came from his mother. A gene that only passes from mother to son. Perhaps the reason it festered within him is because of the remarkable resemblance the duo share.”

Penelope’s eyes narrowed at his words. “You have no right to bring her up.”

“Oh, I have a right. Have I struck a nerve, Lady Penelope? Do you, perhaps, have feelings for the Tracy widower? Such a shame that the reason he does not return the feelings is because he still retains her memory in the form of his children. Especially the _raksasa_.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, reeling herself back in.

The Hood continued. “Back to the subject at hand. Yes, Alan has a gift. I sensed that the moment I met him. I breached his mind, opened the gate, and freed his ability so that it might flourish.”

Tin-Tin frowned, looking at her father in confusion. “Alan has powers?”

He chose not to confirm. He had the answer, at last, to his questions.

Penelope looked towards Parker for a moment before resuming her interrogation, a tad miffed that the Hood had distracted them with such things. “Regardless about Alan, will you help us against these radicals? Give us the information we require?”

“Returning to our previous conversation? You are not a gossip, unfortunately. How much I’ve missed gossip. At least the brat was good for that. Alas,” he focused on her. on her. “I will help, on some conditions,” the Hood responded pleasantly. “I request a decent meal every night, proper quarters, and a more comfortable bed.”

“Not to be released?” Parker asked, astonished at the simplicity.

“Why would I want to be released into a world of war? No, I am quite comfortable staying up here watching it develop.”

Penelope stood up. “Then we are finished here. I will see to your conditions being fulfilled, as they are simple requests. Just remember, if your information is false, you will return to your previous cell state.” Turning, she left the room with the rest of her group.

“Right, we must inform the United Nations to this threat and see to his conditions being completed,” she stated as they walked with Sgt. Hart back down the corridor to the main room.

“Spoiling him… If that is what it takes to get what we need, then so be it. This information better be worth it,” the sergeant responded, expression grim. “Thank you, Lady Penelope.”

“You are very welcome.”

As they boarded FAB-One and returned to the skies, the group was silent as they processed the fresh information.

“To the United Nations, Parker. The delegates are in session now, regarding to what has happened. I will meet with them and relay the information as it comes in from the Hood. Kyrano, Tin-Tin, is there a place you wish to be dropped off?” she questioned, looking to her guests.

“Where you picked us up will be fine, Lady Penelope,” Kyrano responded. “We can take Tracy One back to the Island once we finish gathering supplies.”

She nodded her assent and gave her directions to Parker.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

The Hood smiled as he was led back to his original cell. He knew that he was not going to be moved just yet, but that the gears were turning. It would take them time to fix up a new cell for him with what he required, and that gave him time to think. To delve back into the mind of Alan Tracy, if he so wished. However, he knew that tormenting the other Tracys was just as fun.

As soon as he was situated back into his proper cell and locked in, he laughed once more at the lead walls that were around him. Foolish guards, thinking that such simplicity could keep his powerful mind at bay. They had no idea what they were dealing with.

Of course, he had led them to believe that fact, having been a good little prisoner for two years while he plotted and honed his skill. Expanding his horizons and increasing his skills for one purpose – to reach those who had wronged him. How had these events played out so magnificently? He had had nothing to do with the radical group – appalled by them, really – but what they had managed to do without quite realizing it…

They had caused pain to Jeff Tracy and his sons. For that, and only that, did the Hood applaud their bravado. The rest simply disgusted him. Such a waste of life. A pity, really. It had caused terror, yes, but what had their point been? Their goal? Religious.

He shook his head. Foolish. All it was going to do was bring down war. Plunge the world back into the dark ages with the deaths of innocents – children included. So much blood would be shed that the world would be painted red with this new age.

How long would it be before Jeff Tracy was requested by the United Nations, or even America, to give up his precious Thunderbird technology so that it could be used for warfare?

Banishing the thoughts from his mind, he instead lowered himself into the lotus position and began his daily meditation. Pulling himself away from his current reality, he delved into the realm of mental clarity, silently touching each of the Tracys, giving them each a dream that played on their fears.

Dreams that Alan’s mangled body would be found. Dreams that Alan would become one of the lost, never to be found. Dreams that they would find Alan alive, but he died as soon as they got close to him.

Oh, the joy he got from feeling their suffering. Their longing that was quite simply pathetic. All their fairytale desires for family.

The only family that Trangh truly cared for was his beloved niece. How he had enjoyed caring for her in her youth while he forced his brother to slave away in the mines and her mother to work in the kitchen of his hut. Such a bright child, one that would come into her own soon enough. From what he had seen today, he knew he had been right in her youth – Tin-Tin had indeed blossomed into a beautiful young woman. Her powers too had grown. Simply splendid.

_I don’t want to die._

A smile crossed his lips at the voice. Focusing, he traveled miles back to Alan’s mind, finding himself back in the office of Jeff Tracy with the large wall portrait behind him.

_“Ah, Alan, **selamat kembali**. I see you’ve fallen asleep once more,” the Hood smiled pleasantly at the teenager seated across from him. _

_Alan scowled at the man. “Why am I here again? What do you want?”_

_“You called me, Alan. My dear little **mekanik**. You said you did not want to die. The pleading in your voice was simply dreadful. I had to come, little one.”_

_The blond raised an eyebrow, confusion and hatred evident in his eyes, which only made the Hood smile brighter. “Since when did you start caring? If I recall, you had no qualms about Mullion ordering Transom to barbecue us under ‘One that day.”_

_“Ah, you are still very high spirited! Good, good! I see that your entrapment has not soiled that much from you. You will be needing such energy if you are wanting to live through this. As for you being barbequed, as you so_ elegantly _put it, it was simple – I knew you would survive. You think you would have lived if my niece had not been among you? It was my test for her, and she did not fail me, as you did not fail at the monorail. Creating a shield, almost, that kept the flames at bay while pushing you lot down the tubes. Surely you knew that the tubes did not go straight down.”_

_The bald man waved his hand, forming a new teapot and ceramic cups. Might as well be civilized, after all, while they spoke. “What flavor of beverage would you like, Alan? **Kepat, kepat.** ” At the put-out look on Alan’s face, the Hood almost chuckled. He knew that the teenager was furious and annoyed at his gentlemanly approach to villainy._

_“Seeing as you’ve probably got me trapped me in here again, does it matter?”_

_“Oh, no. I have not trapped you in here. The first time I did because your body needed rest and I wished to talk. This time, however, you are free to leave and return to that hell if you so wish it.” He poured himself some green tea and smiled pleasantly. “Now, what would you like? I can see the thirst in your eyes. Perhaps something to eat as well?”_

_“Surprise me,” the teen muttered._

_The Hood studied him for a moment before waving his gloved hand and making a glass of cool strawberry soda appear alongside a small plate of brussels sprouts. He knew that – in reality – Alan was receiving no sustenance from this food and drink, but the familiar comfort was something that he had only dreamed off when he had once been trapped himself. He had plans for Alan, should he survive. To gain his trust now was essential and a delicate process._

_At Alan’s surprised and longing expression, a true smile crossed his face. “This is what your mind requested, so here you are. Drink up! **Minumlah!** ” When Alan finally picked up the glass and took a tentative sip, he sighed. “Do not be so cautious. It is not poisoned. Why would I want to harm a **Berbakat** like yourself? I have been only trying to help you achieve your true potential all this time.”_

_“No, but it would be like you to give me something that incapacitates me. You might not want to hurt me, but having me under your control…” The blond took a longer drink, relishing the refreshing taste. He then went after the brussels sprouts, his cerulean orbs lighting up with delight._

_However, the Hood was annoyed at the implications, while correct. Gaining control over the youngest Tracy was one of his plans. Only Alan could actually free him from his current prison – something not even Lady Penelope would be able to arrange. “Do you not realize that I can take you over at any point in time? Yet, I have not. Why would I have stilled your mind when you first began to panic while being trapped? I am keeping your phobias at bay. If I were not here, you would be panicking. Your heart would be racing. You would die, foolish child.”_

_“Hmph,” Alan muttered as he drained the glass and set it down, looking a bit longingly at it before he finished off the brussels sprouts. “It’s the truth, though. At least you have the decency to be honest.”_

_The Hood smiled and waved his hand again, allowing it to fill once more. “You remind me of myself. How I would have loved to have something like this when I was trapped for days in that mine. No food, no water. No aid of any kind, and no rescue.” Those days had been horrendous, though they had shaped his mind into one of power and strength. If it had not been for his imprisonment all those years ago, he would not have become the powerful man he was today._

_“To just escape from reality,” Alan murmured as he picked up the glass again and sipped._

_The Hood nodded, watching as the teenager’s body glowed ever so slightly. His mental grip was starting to infect the child, taking a small hold of him. His plan was starting to take shape, even if it is just in the infant stages. “Exactly.” He glanced around the office, thinking back to his humiliating defeat from two years before, and turned his gaze back to Alan. “Tell me, do you want to die?”_

_“What kind of question is that?!”_

_“I can take away all your pain. Your fear. I can end it all for you. A quick squeeze and you’ll be back with your mother again.” His eyes reddened a bit as he made the empty plate disappear. “I know you miss her, despite the nightmares her memory gives you.”_

_“You disgust me!” Alan looked wistfully at the half-empty glass of soda, clearly thinking about throwing it at him._

_The Hood waved his hand, making the glass disappear as well. He would not accept such an insult. “I offer to take away your suffering, and you throw it back in my face? Very well, if that is what you want. I will take away my help. Allow you to suffer in terror. Let your Cliethrophobia take control.” His eyes narrowed dangerously._

_“No! No, what I meant is that I don’t want you to basically help me commit suicide! That’s a coward’s way out!” Alan backtracked._

_“And you are no coward, hm? True enough. You are a stubborn boy who does not know when to give up. One of your few redeeming qualities.”_

_“Exactly,” Alan responded with a glare. “You took the hard way, yet you’re still alive after what happened.”_

_“I am, yes. My mind has become powerful because of what took place. I suppose I should thank your **pengkhianat** father at some point in time…” He shrugged and sipped his tea, pleased at the fresh taste. It was rare that he was given such a delicacy._

_“My father is no traitor! I don’t understand why you would offer me the easy way out if you know that I’m no coward. What to solely test me?”_

_“Oh, but he is. That is beside the point, though. This **is** a test! To see if you are as strong as I believe you are. I also offer this to you on the off-chance that you do not fix your communication device. That you do not embrace your abilities. You will not last more than three days where you are.” Once more, the Hood chose against telling Alan exactly where he was. What had truly happened._

_He waved his hand, the world around them starting to fade. “The offer will stand as long as you live, if you wish to take it. Killing you would be a great pleasure for myself, though I had imagined that taking your life in front of your family would be quite as pleasurable. However, them finding your corpse would be just as satisfactory, if not more so.”_

_“I can’t do it! Nothing’s working! I’ve tried!” the teenager burst out, frustrated and starting to show fear at being back there._

_“You are a **Berbakat** , Alan Shepard Tracy. A **mekanik**. It is within you somewhere. After all, it was not me that started the Mole you dangled over in the bank, but you.”_

_“What?!” His eyes widened. “That couldn’t have been me!”_

_“Alan, Alan, Alan. I have telepathy and telekinesis. Have you ever seen my beloved niece use her own abilities to work a machine? No? So, what makes you believe that I can?” The world around them became black._

_“You could have flicked the switch! Wait!” He reached forward, trying to grab hold of him._

_“From on top of the catwalk? You are a **kentang** **bodoh**.” The Hood smirked and tapped the teenager’s forehead. “ **Masa untuk membangkitkan telah datang, Alan.** ” His eyes flashed red and he sent the child away without another word, returning himself to the waking world of his cell._

Ah, that had been a nice break, but now he needed rest. Standing, he walked over to his bed and laid down, closing his eyes. "Goodbye, Alan. For now."

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/12 – 11:00 a.m. GMT / 6:00 a.m. EST _

**Tracy One**

Tin-Tin and Lady Penelope had parted ways, as Lady Penelope had meetings to attend, informants to inform, and other business. Tin-Tin had chosen to go back with her father and mother to Tracy Island.

The marble moved throughout her fingers once more as her father piloted the private plane over Europe, taking the long way back to Tracy Island as all flights bound for the United States had been grounded, even if they were simply flying overhead.

Her long brown hair flowed down past her shoulders as she turned her head to look out the port window, a sigh upon her lips as the marble danced without her quite acknowledging it. Where was Alan? Where in that mass grave was her best friend? From what she could understand, her uncle knew that Alan was still alive, but how? How could he have reached out to him?

Could her father do the same thing? More than likely not. His power was not as fully developed as his half-brother’s. A shame, really, as her father could have been just as powerful if he tried.

_“The boy is so gifted…”_

What power? What gift? Tin-Tin did not fully understand what the Hood had meant. Alan had powers? Her father had refused to comment on the subject. Then again, she supposed it did not matter any longer. Not now.

Yet, she could not let it go. Gifted with the ability to understand machines? That is what a _mekanik_ was, she knew. It was a rare strain of their power and thought extinct. While Alan had always been able to play around with mechanics, he was no genius. Not like Fermat or Brains. That day at the satellite relay had proven that to her when Fermat had to take over. Then again, Alan had always been an oddball, and usually his troublemaking came from him tinkering with things – which ultimately led to things exploding.

Had Jeff Tracy known about the ability? Had that been why Alan had been sent away to boarding school? Or was it simpler and only because Alan resembled the late Lucille Tracy the most? Tin-Tin was no longer sure about anything anymore.

If Jeff or the other Tracys had not known about Alan’s gift, then how had the Hood? Then again, he was very powerful. He did say that he had sensed it the moment they had met. He had attacked his mind, probed, and found the ability. Opened a gate and let it free.

It was the Hood’s fault that her friend began to change. Why Alan had become more… distant. The others might not have noticed, but she had. He would stop and stare at a random object, practically anything with circuitry, and drift off into a different world it seemed.

He had started talking about weird things, like engines, how they worked, and some kind of new design. He was a bit colder. More… She was not quite sure how to word it, but the truth was, it was not Alan. No. He had become something new. Something she did not quite understand.

There was also the fact that he had given up returning home for fall break. She had questioned him about his reasonings, and he had stated that Fermat had wanted to go to some convention. When she asked Fermat, he had told her that Alan had entered a competition.

Why had her friend not informed her? Why had he become distant? Why had he become almost secretive?

Tin-Tin was not sure what to make of all this new information. ‘ _Oh, stop bothering with it. They haven’t found him yet, and they might never. There is literally no point in thinking on what the Hood said,_ ’ she thought to herself, clenching her other fist and closed her eyes.

Taking a few deep breaths, she refocused herself on the marble still moving about her hand. Maybe she should call Fermat. It would be about six in the morning in New York, so he would be up, given that he was an early riser.

Reaching for her phone, she dialed his number. A few rings later, she released the breath she had not been aware of holding when she heard his voice.

“ _H-Hello? Tin-Tin?_ ”

“Hey, Fermat. How are you holding up?” Well, that felt like a stupid question. She could hear his weariness, and the shake in his voice as he spoke. She knew he was still scared by what had taken place the previous day.

“ _Better th-than yesterday. Have you he-heard?_ ”

“Yeah… Dad and I just went with Lady P up to see the Hood. He’s not connected to this, but he knows who is. Any change on… on Alan?”

Fermat went silent for a moment. “ _No. T-They found t-two more s-survivors l-last night. J-Just finished di-digging one out._ ”

She lowered her gaze. What would happen if Alan was not found alive? Was her uncle correct? Would Mr. Tracy turn the Thunderbirds into war machines to seek vengeance? “Have you called your father yet?”

“ _S-Scott g-got me th-through to him la-last night. I-I’m t-ta-taking a b-bus with the r-rest of my school group back to Wharton’s. Pa-Packing now._ ”

She sighed unhappily, not pleased about having to say goodbye just yet. “I’ll let you get back to that. Call me when you get there, okay?”

“ _F.A.B._ ”

Clicking the off button, she returned her phone to her pocket and sighed. Why would some radicals do this? She could not make sense of it no matter how she tried to wrap her mind around it.

Getting up, she walked towards the refrigerator and took out a strawberry soda for a moment before putting it back and getting out a nice cold water. Her mouth felt so dry, and hopefully this would quench her thirst.

Three bottles and a major brain freeze later, Tin-Tin chucked the bottles down the aisle of the plane, letting her rage out in a small burst. How could Alan do this to her?! Go and get himself into trouble yet again?! Did she mean nothing to him?! Why had he entered a stupid competition and gone to New York?

The only reason she had decided to go on the mission with Lady Penelope was because neither Alan nor Fermat would have been home for Fall Break. They could have been together again if not for some stupid convention!

They would have been training! Being kids while learning to become adults! Maybe she and Alan could have made a small move past friendship into something more?

The thought made her pause. How did she truly feel about Alan?

“ _Daughter,_ ” Kyrano’s voice rang out over the intercom, interrupting her thoughts. “ _Calm yourself. **Pastikan hati dan minda tenang**. Do you wish your mother or I to come back with you?_”

Taking a few deep breaths, Tin-Tin regained her composure and pressed the button to respond to him as the floating objects around the cabin came to rest on the floor. She had some cleaning to do when they landed. “Sorry, Dad. I just…”

“ _I understand. Why don’t you try to sleep, dearest?_ ” her mother asked. “ ** _Anda berhak tidur._** ”

Sleep would probably be a good idea, but could she bring herself to do so? Returning the marble to her pocket, she curled up on the couch, the tendrils of loneliness wrapping their claws around her, trapping her within the tight grip.

Pulling out her phone again, she dialed Alan’s frequency, grateful for the special devices that Brains had invented that connected cell phones to the watches as well.

“ _Hey, this is Alan! I don’t have my communications on right now as I’m on a school trip, hahahaha, like I care, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you! Oh and no, Gordon, I don’t know where your scuba gear is!_ ”

A small smile crossed her face as she listened to his voice recording and his silly message to Gordon. She knew Alan well enough to know that without him, Gordon would never find his missing gear.

There were two phases to Alan – wide awake or out cold. He was a typical teenager and lover of sleep, constantly falling asleep in the most random places, much to her amusement. When he was not sleeping, he was usually daydreaming or getting into trouble, not that he did so on purpose. He had always only been trying to find his place to fit in, even after the Hood’s invasion. While Alan, Tin-Tin, and Fermat had become members of International Rescue, it would be many years before they were full-fledged members.

Like Fermat, she had started taking special training to further what she could do. Her plan was to become a covert operator like Lady Penelope and Parker. She had begun learning martial arts and spy techniques from the duo. Combine physical abilities with her telekinesis made her the perfect covert agent candidate for undercover missions.

Fermat would become an engineer alongside his father, able to design and create new ways for International Rescue to be of use to the world. Already, he had begun work on a new model for Thunderbird Two so they would load up different ‘tanks’ with modules in them that would design a pod according to what was needed in the field. It was a project that would take a few years of perfecting before it could be implemented, and Thunderbird Two would have to be rebuilt to accommodate the new additions, but it was an excellent idea and created more room for more useful tools instead of having to lug around the pre-made machines.

Tin-Tin and Fermat had already found their calling. Would the third part of their infamous trio ever get the chance? Would Alan have his time to shine? All he had ever wanted was to fly among the stars and be part of International Rescue, helping others by his family’s side. He had spoken of almost nothing else for so many years!

He wanted to make his family proud. Prove to them that he was of some use, though she knew such a thought was folly. Alan was far more useful than he believed he was. Where the thought that he was useless came from she did not know, but it bothered her.

Why could Alan not see all the potential he had? The kind and compassionate-sometimes-a-jerk Tracy he was? She wished he could see that he did not need to impress anyone. Especially not her. He was her best friend above anything and she loved him.

A blush crept up her cheeks at the thought. Perhaps love was too strong a word. Then again, love did not just have to mean talking about boyfriend/girlfriend. She loved her parents. She loved the Tracys and Hackenbackers. All of them were her family, yet the odd feeling would not go away as she thought of his soft blond locks shifting in a warm tropical breeze. His gorgeous cerulean orbs gazing out either to sea or up to the skies. His hand in hers as they tackled a particularly difficult hill while hiking.

Why were these thoughts coming to her now of all times? Why not a month ago when she had been talking to him over the holo-vid? Of course, while on the phone call, she could not help but think of running her fingers through his hair…

‘ ** _Apakah yang saya lakukan_** _? What am I doing? Thinking on this when I might never see him again?_ ’ she wondered, feeling a catch in her throat as she dialed his frequency again, once more listening to his voice.

“ _Anak perempuan_? Daughter?”

Watery chocolate brown eyes slowly traveled away from the nothingness she stared into, and up to her mother’s crouching form. Her hand slipped down to her lap while the voice on it said to leave a message at the tone. “ _Ibu…_ I never got to say goodbye. I never got to…”

Onaha slowly sat and pulled her daughter close, allowing her to shed her tears. Her hand gently stroked her sole child’s head as she offered words of comfort to the best of her ability. “Shh, my child. _Saya pasti dia sudah tahu_. My beautiful girl, I’m sure he already knows how you feel. How we all feel.” Oh, how she wanted the boy back safe and sound on the Island. To no longer worry about him when her heart was already torn at the amount of innocent lives lost for no reason.

As a mother, she knew the pain and longing of families that had lost their grown children in the act of pure cruelty. For Tin-Tin, it was dreadful to acknowledge that she could not only have lost one of her dearest and best of friends, but also her crush. Onaha’s heart reached for her child. She wanted to take this pain away from her. Pull it away and throw it into the incinerator. Free her daughter from the heartache of losing a loved one.

Kyrano had told her what the Hood had stated. That the world had come into a new age. An age of desperation, hatred, war, and bigotry. The thought of it made her stomach churn already. This was what they wanted though, was it? The extremists that allegedly responsible for this tragedy wanted death and chaos. Vindication in a twisted sense of religious duty.

Onaha was a peaceful person, but the acts of those that had brought so much harm to her newfound Island family caused her to want to hunt them down herself and give them the worst thrashing they had ever had.

“ _Help… please…_ ”

She blinked in surprise and looked down at the phone in confusion. Had she just heard a voice? Gently pulling it from her crying daughter’s fingers, she lifted it up to her ear, yet heard nothing but static.


	7. Fading Hope

_ 9/12 – 6:10 a.m. EST _

**Bus Station**

Scott sipped his coffee out of the gas station cup as he walked alongside Fermat and the rest of the surviving Wharton Academy group. They were headed to the bus station, so they could board a ride back to Massachusetts. He was carrying not only Fermat’s duffle bag, but Alan’s as well, while Fermat carried the trophy he and Alan had won. Each of the students were carrying two bags, bringing back to the school the missing group’s belongings for their parents to pick up.

Having to pack up Alan’s things into his bag had been one of the most difficult things Scott had done. Given his profession, that was saying a lot. Bodies, destruction, and explosions – give him that any day. Gathering his baby brother’s items together into a sole pack without him around was pure hell.

Fermat had mentioned that there had been more items, but Alan had paid extra to ship the Christmas presents – the model Thunderbirds that Scott recalled his brother talking about with their father before the trip – back to California to be picked up a few days prior on the tenth.

So many of his baby brother’s intricate personal items. Clothes, notebooks with doodles drawn in. Scott had to laugh at one picture he had come across – a picture of a teacher being barbequed by Thunderbird One, who Fermat later explained to be Alan’s least favorite teacher due to her rudeness towards him. His next find also puzzled him – racing magazines.

The eldest brother found himself questioning the magazines, but believed he had an answer – the beautiful women on the pages. Alan was a typical teenager, after all! Besides, he had never really shown any interest in cars before. Or, if he had, no one had taken any notice.

Fermat’s laughter at Scott’s inquiry, however, was making him think otherwise. Couple that with the racing engine that the young engineer explained Alan had not only designed but built, and Scott had come to realize he did not know his baby brother as well as he thought he did. How many secrets did the youngest Tracy hold within?

After the bag had been packed the previous night, Scott had stayed up sitting on his brother’s bed while Fermat fitfully slept. How his father had expected him to sleep, the Tracy son did not know. However, he had managed to rake in at least three or four hours of sleep before Fermat had woken him up, stating that they needed to get going.

The morning was chilly, and Scott was not quite sure if the fog in the air really was fog or if it was lingering dust. It might have even been a mixture of both.

The streets were silent as the group walked, kicking up dust with each step. The entire Manhattan Island was covered in the crumbled remains of what were once mighty buildings. Like a dirty snowfall, the dust was craftily brushed along every small crevasse, while it piled up like drifts in other areas. If it had been snow, Scott would have still hated the sight. Living on Tracy Island, one did not get to spend winters with snow, thankfully. Cold, cruel, and unforgiving was all snow was to him after his mother’s death.

He hated having to fly to, well, _anywhere_ in winter. Avalanche rescues were especially hard for him and the rest of his family. He knew that, like himself, his brothers and father were always anxious about such rescues given their history with the murderous white cold.

Yet, this was not snow. It was only a cold stark reminder that so many had been murdered in a senseless act. His brother included.

The group slowed to a stop when they came across a wall filled with pictures and a headline with big, bold, sickeningly colorful letters. **_HAVE YOU SEEN ME?_** Surrounding the words were flowers, family photos, descriptions, pleas for information. Scott’s heart ached as he stared at the images. Closing his eyes for a moment, he set down his cargo, passed his coffee over to the nearest person, and pulled out his wallet.

Feeling the eyes of the student group upon him, he opened the leather wallet and flipped to the pictures of his family. Pausing over the one of his youngest, he smiled, looking at the image. It was a picture of Alan up near the satellite relay, sitting on a rock while dressed in jeans and one of his blue jackets. Scott had captured the image just as Alan had been looking towards him with surprise. It was one of his favorites, reminding him that despite how grown-up Alan tried to act, he was still just a child.

Pulling out a pen, he jotted down some information – _ALAN SHEPARD TRACY. IF YOU HAVE ANY INFORMATION, CONTACT TRACY INDUSTRIES. (929) 234-9874 REWARD OFFERED._

Taking it out, he found a pin and placed the picture on the wall. It felt final. As if he were finally giving up on his brother, though that was not the point. Alan had joined the wall of the lost – the missing. With the resounding and heartbreaking possibility of never being found again.

“We’re going to find you, buddy. I promise. One way or another, I’ll get you to the stars like you dreamed, even if it is only to join Mom’s ashes.”

He ignored the comforting hand placed on his shoulder, eyes focusing on the image. He knew the other students had placed their own images of their missing peers, printed the night before in the lobby of the hotel. One led the group in a quiet prayer.

‘ _Oh, Sprout… This is the worst amount of trouble that has somehow found you. I don’t know how it keeps happening – why the bad things always happen to you. I was supposed to be there. To protect you… I’ve failed. I’m so so sorry…_ ’ he thought wistfully, his deep azure eyes never leaving the image.

Finally, Scott straightened up and returned his wallet to his pocket. Taking back his coffee and picking back up the duffel bags, he began walking again. Dark thoughts clouded his mind, blocking out the happier memories.

He wished he had been a better brother. He wished he had visited Alan at school more often. He wished he had called Alan on the tenth instead of taking John’s advice and waiting until Sunday. All he would remember of his brother’s final words were the fear as a plane flew right at the South Tower.

There were so many wishes, so many ‘ _if only’s_ ’, that he was falling into misery. Yet, he knew he could not give in. He had to be strong. He had to be there for Fermat. Pulling a mask upon his face was something he had honed over the years from being a Field Commander in his father’s stead.

Glancing over at the young genius, he frowned. The younger boy had pulled down his make-shift cloth mask and was using his inhaler. “Fermat? You okay, buddy?”

Returning the mask over his face and depositing the inhaler in his pocket, the teenager nodded silently, holding the trophy closer to his body.

Silently they reached the school charter bus and placed the bags within the compartment, begrudgingly boarding the bus. Scott put a hand on Fermat’s shoulder, holding him back as he knelt in front of him. “They’ll get you back to the school safely. When we’re done here, I’ll figure out a way to get you back home. As soon as I’m able to fly Tracy One, I’ll be along to pick you up. Or, we’ll send Lady P to pick you up when she’s done meeting with the delegates. That might be faster.”

The younger boy nodded, looking at his ‘older brother’. He saw all the Tracy boys as brothers instead of friends. They had lived together for almost all of Fermat’s life, after all. He did not want to board the bus that would take him back to the school. Take him back to an empty dorm room where the silence would be deafening without Alan’s boisterous speaking.

To be back at school without his best friend was something that the young genius had never contemplated before. Alan had always been there for him for as long as he could remember – heck, their first meeting had been when Alan was only five! They had latched on together from day one, and four years later brought Tin-Tin into their ranks.

They were known lovingly by Onaha as the _Tiga_ _Masalah_ – Three Problems – a name affectionately bestowed upon them at a young age after it was discovered when they put Fermat’s genius, Alan’s knack for trouble, and Tin-Tin’s love of adventure together the possibilities were endless.

While Alan and Gordon were known as the Terrible Two for their pranks, the trio also had a knack for getting into trouble – and usually led into it by Alan. One of their more elaborate schemes involved trying to sneak food past Onaha and the rest of the Tracys by using one of Brains’ robots, a macaw, and rotten eggs. As per usual, it had ended quite badly. Onaha had chased the robot and bird around, yelling about them being possessed. Meanwhile, Scott, Virgil, and Gordon had chased Alan around after having rotten eggs dumped on them.

A weak smile crossed his face at the memory that had taken place only a few short months ago. The knowledge that another memory like that would never come to pass had a devastating effect on him as he visibly trembled. If only he had not convinced Alan to enter his engine into the competition!

As if sensing what he was thinking, Scott cupped the younger boy’s chin. “Hey… This wasn’t your fault, Fermat. No matter what way you twist it. He wanted to go, and he was not going to let you go to New York alone.”

“N-Not w-with the b-bullies,” Fermat agreed quietly.

“Bullies? What bullies?” This was the second time Scott had heard of any bullying – the first being straight from the bully’s mouth itself! His grip tightened slightly at the distressed look on his younger friend’s face. “Fermat?” Maybe he should just keep him in Thunderbird Two and refuse to return him to Wharton Academy? Damn the consequences of ‘kidnapping’ the boy!

Fermat avoided his gaze. “D-Doesn’t m-matter.”

“ _Fermat_.”

The younger boy sighed and stuttered through a few explanations on how his and Alan’s life at Wharton’s was not exactly as how they had led everyone to believe. That more than once the duo had been jumped. How Alan always hurried to his defense, sometimes getting into physical fights in the process. How Alan refused to go to the Headmaster about the problems, only because he did not want to disappoint his family again by causing trouble at school. How, while Fermat had other friends at school, Alan was usually excluded by most people. Strangely labeled a freak, something about his eyes. Why things would go haywire around him from time to time.

Scott listened, anger building up within his tensing body. Joshua had not been Alan’s only bully? There were others who tormented his youngest brother? Now that he thought more on it, he recalled other situations, such as the times that Alan only spoke through audio instead of holo-video. “Why did no one tell us?”

“T-Th-There’s a l-lot that A-Alan never t-told you,” the young boy responded softly.  “T-Things c-changed s-since the H-Hood. H-He’s b-be-been able to ho-hold his own better. M-More d-daring. Not perfect, but…” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone and keyed in a website after loading the data. “T-This w-was up-uploaded by one of the p-people in his g-group ye-yesterday m-morning before e-everything.” The boy went on to explain that there was a secret site used by the boys of Wharton’s to communicate under the radar. There were videos, pictures, negative and positive comments about fellow students…

Scott frowned, taking the phone from him and watching the video of Alan weaving back and forth, avoiding the punches thrown at him by a larger teenager that easily towered over him. Listening to the conversation going on, his brow furrowed. “Alan...” he murmured, watching the teenager he barely recognized.

“T-That’s J-Joshua. He’s h-hated Alan s-since we fi-first a-arrived at W-Wharton’s.”

“I’m going to forward this to the servers back on Tracy Island. The others can watch this at some point.” The reasoning behind this was that it was the last video they had of their little Sprout. Of him laughing. Being his sassy self.

It would be their one last joy if Alan was not found alive.

“Alan’s not usually like that,” Fermat responded, going on to explain that usually at that point the other boys would have jumped in and a huge brawl would have taken place. Being where they were, was the only reason that Alan was not black and blue for talking to Joshua the way he was.

Scott sighed, thinking on that. His thoughts were interrupted, however, by a message from Virgil on the wrist-com, stating he was needed. Passing the phone back, he pulled him in for a hug. “We’ll be seeing you soon, Fermat. Okay? I have to get back to the Pile.”

Fermat nodded, hugging him back. “Find A-Alan. Joshua, too, if y-you can.”

“Try and stop us,” Scott responded with a smile. He backed away and stood back up. “Get on going. Let us know when you arrive.”

“I will. B-Be car-careful, Sc-Scott.”

“F.A.B.” Waiting until Fermat boarded the vehicle, Scott stood to the side, sipping his coffee. As soon as the bus was out of sight down the dusty road, he finished off his drink and went to prepare to rejoin the rest of the group that had returned to the Pile.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/12 – 8:50 a.m. EST _

**Thunderbird Two**

Jeff ran a hand over his face as he settled into a somewhat relaxed position. Just twenty minutes before, Penelope had briefed him on what she had told the United Nations. The information the Hood had given her once his conditions had been met.

The Hood believed that a group of extremists had caused this terrorist attack. Radical terrorists had taken his son from him, his baby. The son that resembled his beloved late wife the most in both spirit and looks. He was losing her all over again. Why? What had he done wrong? A lot of things once he started thinking about it. Out of all his sons, Alan had been the one he had neglected the worst after his wife’s death.

It was not as if he had meant to push his youngest son away, but Alan had become… wild after the avalanche. Their wild child filled with night terrors that he eventually grew out of. Alan was always seeking trouble out – and when he was not, trouble would find him.

It was only within the past few hours that Jeff finally realized why his youngest was so wild and reckless. It was all an effort for someone to actually see him. An act of attention, whether negative or positive. His family, who was so preoccupied with saving others, had missed the biggest person in need – Alan. The baby of the family had secluded himself, only picking and choosing his outlets. An act that had propelled him to create a subroutine, blocking any news the family would have received. Any small glimpse into their wild child’s life. Allowing them to missing out on so much, allowing Jeff to miss out on who his son had become.

Now it was too late to make it up.

Only nineteen people had been found alive within the rubble, the latest one pulled free around seven in the morning after having been buried for twenty-two hours. News stations were already referring the man as the last survivor. That could very possibly be true at this point. Over one hundred people and body parts had been found dead. Only a handful of survivors.

Twenty rescue workers had been sent to the hospital over the past twenty-four hours, his own son among them, after being injured while searching for survivors.

Briefly, he wondered how Gordon was doing this morning. He had awoken from his operation only hours after it took place and had driven nurses and Tracys alike nuts with his half-slurred complaints.

Jeff wanted to go and see him, but Virgil needed him last night. Then the two Port Authority officers had been found, and International Rescue had been called back to the Pile. Even with their exo-skeletons, it had taken several hours to get to the men. Perhaps if he had called in Scott…

He was supposed to be resting. If his medic son wandered in soon and saw he was still up, he would get a scolding. Only Scott had gotten any sleep that night, as Jeff had asked him to stay with Fermat until the younger boy was sent on his way back to Massachusetts at Brains’ request. Even if Brains had not requested that someone stay with Fermat, Jeff would have asked one of his boys to do it.

Maybe he should try to sleep. Sleep would be good. It would be smart. It would recharge him, so he could return to working. Return to finding Alan.

The thought of his little boy still trapped, possibly lying dead, within the Pile had a devastating effect on the single father. His throat constricted, his stomach felt gutted, and his shoulders trembled. A headache was starting to form between his eyes as he leaned forward, face in hands. Alan...

So full of life and love, internal conflict, and a strong will. Life would not be the same if…

Closing his eyes, Jeff tried to focus on something else. _Anything._ His mind refused to shift, filling him instead with images of mangled bodies found within the rubble, faces replaced with those of his child.

Hope was starting to fade within him as the minutes and hours ticked by since the collapse. The majority of the survivors had been found within hours of the collapse. Now the chances of survival were dwindling into single digits. The chances of finding anyone still alive were almost non-existent as the hours waned on.

The likelihood that his baby was still alive were less than three percent.

With a shuddering breath, Jeff brought his wrist communicator up close and keyed in Alan’s private frequency.

“Alan? I don’t know if you can hear me or if you’re even there. I don’t know if your watch is broken or if you were crushed beneath the rubble like so many others. I just… I just needed to talk to you, even if you can’t hear me.” Biting his lip slightly, Jeff took another deep breath. “I never had the chance to say goodbye to your mother. She was ripped away from us, crushed beneath the snow. It… It is cruel to think that you have or will share the same fate. I… I can’t lose you. None of you. You boys are my whole world. My greatest treasures.”

“Before you were born, I was positive I did not want another child. I won’t lie any longer. I already had four boys, and to take on another that was so much younger than them had me questioning. As the date drew closer, I found myself dreading it. What was I going to do with such a young baby? It had been seven years since I had changed a diaper. Seven years since I had cradled an infant. Seven years since I rocked a baby while your mother slept. I was scared. Your mother kept reassuring me that everything would be fine.”

A smile crossed his lips. “When the doctor placed you in my arms, everything changed in an instant. You were so perfect. Looked just like your mother. My heart fell for you in an instant, just as it did for your older brothers. From the very first day, you had us all wrapped around your finger. You wanted, we gave. From hugs to cuddles and everything in between. You became the light of this family.

“Your mother picked out your name, contrary to the popular belief of the media. Alan Shepard had always been her favorite astronaut. I’m not quite sure why, but she was adamant about the name from the very beginning. I can’t think of any other name for you. Anything else I would have picked,” he laughed. “Okay, that’s not true. I was thinking about Walter. I’m rather glad Luce talked me out of it. Saddling you with that would have just been… No.”

He stared at the blank screen as it transmitted his message. Was it even reaching his boy? Was Alan even alive enough to hear him? “When you were born, I had no idea just how much trouble you would become. Not that you were trouble. You… I mean the trouble that… Oh, I’m doing this wrong. Then again, that explains a lot of it doesn’t it? I did a lot of things wrong when it concerned you.”

A sigh left him as he thought of the best way to explain his reasoning. “See, people – rivals really – wanted to get at me. Others wanted money. It had been a long time since I had to worry about one of the older boys become a target. Virgil and Gordon were never allowed anywhere without Scott or John around. You, however, were a little sneak and would constantly sneak outside towards night to watch the stars. More than once were you almost kidnapped,” he scowled a bit at the memories.

“Your brothers protected you every time. Even when I was not there, your brothers would defend you like guardians. The frequent kidnapping attempts is one reason why I decided to move to an Island, if only to protect my children. But then… then your mother was taken from us.

“Do you remember her, Alan? I know when the boys talk about her, you always stay out of the conversation. One of my biggest regrets has always been that you could not remember her smile. Her voice. Her lullaby as she sang you to sleep after standing on the balcony under the stars to calm you down. Her wish that you follow my footsteps and become an astronaut.”

He was so very close to breaking down. To losing himself to his grief and rage. His anger at himself for not being able to locate the youngest Tracy. For all the needless death. The murder.

“When I lost her, I fear I lost you, too. You looked so much like her, and without realizing it, I was pushing you away from myself. I hugged you less frequently. Comforted you in the night only when I had no other choice. I never held you under the stars. John took over that aspect, just as Scott took over fatherly roles towards you. Gordon became your number one playmate. Virgil… He was so angry in his youth. He was angry at you, at me, at Scott… I let that anger fester for so long until he eventually exploded at the three of us, you especially. It was that explosion that made me realize that my mental absence was tearing my family apart even more.”

“I tried so hard to rekindle what we’d lost, Allie, and for a while it seemed I had. Then I started International Rescue. You wanted to help out so badly, but I was afraid of losing you again, so I sent you away to boarding school while I got everything set up. It was only supposed to be for a year, but then as you grew older and took more of an interest in the rescue, I kept sending you back. When you blew up the lab, I was so needlessly angry. I said so many things that I’ve deeply regretted ever since. What I never told you was how much I secretly laughed at the reckless expression on your face. How proud you had been. Your brothers knew.” He bit his lip again, mulling a bit.

“When I sent you to Wharton Academy, I figured they would straighten you out. And then the bullying started. You might think I didn’t know about it, but I did…and I did _nothing_. I was too preoccupied with helping others rather than my own son. I felt that it would build your character. Toughen you up. All it did was pull you further and further away out of fear that you would disappoint me. Disappoint your brothers.”

He closed his eyes, fighting back against the tears that threatened to spill. “When that spring break came along, I was prepared to try and fix things between us before you turned fifteen. Then I got angry at you for pretending to be like Scott and yelled at you for endangering us all. When the Hood invaded… Alan, I watched you, Fermat, and Tin-Tin run around risking your lives to save us. It hit me, son. I realized how badly I had screwed up. It hit me even harder when I discovered the Hood had singled you out. He took joy in trying to torment you, trying to torment your mind.”

“I wasn’t able to protect you that day. You saved us all, but as a reward you were damaged inside in ways I may never know. It took days for you to recover and let us back in. It took about the same amount of time for us all to come to terms with everything that had happened. That day, you proved to me that you had the heart of a hero, even if a few times you were an idiot about it. You still got the job done.”

“About a few weeks after, when I made the three of you trainees, I… I never told you, but I was preparing you to fulfill your mother’s wish. I wanted to see you using the other Thunderbirds before I let you even attempt flying in Thunderbird Three. Maybe it was my own fears that prevented me from pushing your training. Maybe it was my own desire for you to be the one son that I could protect, if only for a little while longer. Space is dangerous, far more than on Earth. If something went wrong out there, we would have no way to get help to you without relying on other technology that would not be fast enough.”

“That’s why I let Gordon co-pilot only. He’s ultimately decided that he wants to work in Thunderbird Two from time to time and pilot Thunderbird Four. So that leaves you. Everyone else has settled, and everyone has told me that becoming the pilot of Thunderbird Three is your future. John and Scott especially. Honestly, I can’t get them to shut up about it. Drives me crazy sometimes,” the father of five chuckled at the thought.

“Those brothers of yours believe in you so much. I do too, Alan. I was going to start implementing your space training this fall break, and have you come with me to pick up John. They’ve all relayed to me how well your training has been going with the other ships. How natural it has come to you. Piloting, natural instinct… all of it. How you were ready for this and now… Now I’m too late. Too late to make up for all the wrongs, too late to get the chance to take you to the stars you’ve longed to touch. Too late to let you have your dreams come true.”

At last, Jeff Tracy let his emotions overwhelm him. His despair, regret, and longing all took their toll on him as he allowed the sobs to rake his body. He broke down, physically and emotionally, something a long time coming.

To think that he had failed his loved ones yet again. To not have been fast enough. All it did was shatter his already fractured heart. He had sworn to protect all his sons, his family, yet he had once more failed. How could he have allowed himself to fail again?

Already he had almost lost Alan to the Hood, and now he was losing him to another avalanche. Alan had his whole life ahead of him, and the actions of a few had taken it all away.

Feeling warmth dripping down his wrists, he looked down, realizing he had been clenching his fists so tightly he had cut into the flesh. The father did not care, however, as he stared at the small streams of blood that trickled down to his uniform. What was such a minor injury in the grand scheme of things?

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” He could not bring himself to say goodbye. Not now, possibly not ever. “Alan, I…” Clamping a hand over the device, he closed the connection and buried his tear-streaked face into his bloody palms.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/12 – 9:05 a.m. EST _

**Thunderbird Five**

John’s eyes were clenched shut. His father must have forgotten that all conversations filtered through the station, as it was their own private satellite, so he had heard everything. He had wanted to desperately to ignore the conversation, those private words for the youngest Tracy, but he could not bring himself to do so.

Such pain in his father’s voice made him tremble. That his father was starting to give up on finding Alan alive was one of the worst things he could hear. Yes, the thought had crossed all their minds – he had even had a conversation with Scott about it the previous night in the late hours before John finally had to turn in for sleep – but to hear the great Jefferson Tracy say it…

The platinum blond was not sure what to think. He did not want to give up on his brother, not while some people were still being found, though it had been two hours since the last person had been pulled from the rubble and no one else had even been found alive. Just more bodies.

Alan had yet to send a signal out. With each passing hour, John’s own hope dwindled away. He was just a kid, and so many adults had not made it. What chance did he have, really? Less than ten percent, if the calculations were correct.

On one hand, John wanted his family to leave the Pile and return to rescuing around the world – there were a lot of problems going on – so they would not be the ones to find the body of the youngest Tracy. The moment that thought crossed his mind, John nearly hit himself. If anyone were to find Alan’s body, the platinum blond would rather it be his family.

No matter the effect it would have.

What would happen to his family, to International Rescue, if they did not find Alan? Only from last night had John started thinking on the question after his little sob session in the shower. Would their organization fall apart? Would their family split off?

His father and elder brother had blamed themselves for years for Lucille’s death. His father locked himself away. Scott was not given that luxury as he was forced to take on a father role at only seventeen. John had helped him as much as he could, but now? How could he help his family if he was up here?

That was right; he could not. He was useless up here, at least for now. In the grand scheme, he would rather be down with his family. Sharing in their grief instead of suffering in silence alone up here with no one to comfort him. To pull him away from his dark thoughts.

Desperate for someone to talk to, he contacted Gordon. “How are you doing, Gordo? Go back to sleep yet?”

The copper-head’s holo-form appeared beside John, so realistic that the elder brother wanted to reach out and pull him in for a hug. That was one thing he missed being up here – physical contact. What would he give to have some sort of physical contact right now? Everything.

“ _Ugh… Hey, John. I feel like crap, to be honest,_ ” the copperhead responded, sounding completely miserable.

“You look like crap,” he teased.

“ _Shut it. You try being impaled in the leg and nearly dying and see how you feel about it!_ ” Gordon complained unhappily, grumpiness in his tone.

“Touchy, touchy,” John grinned. “Hey, you’re going to be fine. That’s what the doctors all say. In a few months, you’ll be back to swimming and diving. Pulling pranks on Scott!”

“ _Yeah, well..._ ” Gordon sighed. “ _They haven’t found him yet, have they? Have they even found anyone else?_ ”

“Two Port Authority officers were unburied this morning. No one else has been found other than bodies,” John responded truthfully. He knew what it felt like to be left out of the loop, and though Gordon was bedridden, he had a right to know. “I still haven’t found a signal, either. I’m about to go over a backlog of messages sent through last night after I signed off. Probably going to be insulted to death like yesterday.”

“ _Eh, better you than me, big brother. I don’t know how you manage to not bite their heads off._ ”

He smirked. “Years of practice dealing with you younger brothers.”

“ _Ha. Funny._ ” Gordon hissed as he shifted positions – at least, that was what it appeared to be to John. “ _What’s going to happen now, John? We can’t take another loss. Not after Mom._ ”

“I know, Gordo. I know. What’s happened…” His father had told him what Lady Penelope had said about what the Hood knew. Should he tell his younger brother? No. Gordon needed to relax as much as he could and not worked up. It was not worth it. “What’s happened is a tragedy for everyone.”

“ _Well if that’s not the most politically correct piece of bull that has **ever** come out of your mouth, John,_” his younger brother snapped, green eyes filled with fury. “ _You can placate Dad with that, but not me._ ”

He sighed. “Gordon, you need to focus on healing. That’s what’s important right now.”

“ _There are far more important things right now. I can’t exactly get up and run back to the Pile to help out. So, I have no choice but to lay back and heal… and go insane watching the news._ ”

“You’re actually watch the news instead of cartoons? Color me shocked.”

“ _Hardy-har-har. Go back to your monitoring, spaceboy._ ” Gordon’s holo-form vanished, leaving John alone once more in the cold grip of space.

That had not gone according to plan at all.

Perhaps it was due to how out-of-touch he was with his family while being up in space all the time. He wanted to come down more, but only his father was able to really handle being in space for long periods of time – his siblings all got sick and were miserable from staying too long. The only sibling not tested…

Clenching his fist, he made himself a vow. If Alan was found alive, John was going to bring him up to the station for an extended visit. They would do the things that they had talked about, such as go on a spacewalk, play around with the gravity controls and float around for a bit, and just have some time to themselves to talk. Truly communicate in ways that had not happened since the Hood.

However, the thought of not being able to do any of those things with his star-bound brother stopped him dead in his tracks. Well, it would have, had he been actually moving.

“No, no, don’t think like that, Johnny boy. You cannot allow yourself to break down again. Not like last night. You have to remain strong. You’re on duty right now, and having the head of International Rescue operations, so to speak, break down is _not_ a good thing. Ignore the horrific dreams you had last night and focus on your task.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and slid his chair along the tracks to the monitoring system. He felt a bit better after his self-pep-talk, just barely, and began to go over the log of communications received after he had signed off.

“ _I know you guys are having a hard time with this, but honestly, if you had just shown up sooner-_ ” Nope! Delete.

“ _Thank you, guys, for doing what you can. I just wish you could have done more._ ” Hm. Debatable.

“ _You lot can go fu-_ ” DELETED.

For the next hour, John went through messages, laughing at a few, shedding a tear at others. Honestly, why did people think they could just call to disrespect them? They were doing the best they could despite the situation they had been dealt.

Sighing, he leaned back as he enjoyed his not-so-tasty meal in a bag. Today’s flavor? Beef jerky with macaroni and cheese. Not as bad as some of the others he had to eat up here, and he found himself craving a pizza. A _real_ pizza, not one of these MiaBs. Ugh.

Balancing his time between current calls and ones from the previous night was tedious work, but it kept him busy. Barely gave him time to think, which he was grateful for. Sweet relief from the morbidity of his chosen career.

Pressing the button for the next recording, he took another bite, rolling his eyes at the static. Honestly, could people not sort out their communications better? This one said it was coming from an unknown source, too. Probably some kind of joke.

“ _John? Can…hear…? Please… I want… home…_ ”

The fork dropped from his fingers, clanging on the floor while a bit of food slipped from his open mouth, plopping onto his lap, staining the pristine whiteness of his uniform. Had he just heard…? Was it possible?

Playing the message over again, and then several times more to just be sure, he dropped his bag of food as he jumped up frantically. Running his fingers over the keys, he looked up the timeframe for when the message had appeared. Horror ran through him as he realized.

“Just… Just a few minutes after I signed off…” he whispered. How could this… This could not be happening!

Alan had survived the collapse. As of late last night, he had still been alive, and John had possibly missed their one chance on connecting with him! That thought alone sent shivers down his spine. Had he failed Alan? His family? He had been having nightmares about missing a transmission from his younger brother that for it to actually come true…

A million thoughts raced through his mind. Should he contact his father and brothers? Let them know? What would that do, though? Wait! The signal! Sitting back down, he tried to pinpoint the signal, hoping to locate the transmission source.

“Please… just work for me…” he whispered as he set the software to search. “ _Please_ … Let me bring our baby home.”

**SEARCHING…**

He held his breath, filled with anxious anticipation.

**LOCATION – MANHATTAN, NEW YORK, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA**

“Yes… Yes, go on…” he murmured, afraid to tear his eyes away from the screen. His brother’s lifeline. This just had to work!

**WORLD TRADE CENTER PLAZA**

Any second now he would have his baby brother’s exact coordinates. He would be able to send his brothers and father to the rescue and their family would be whole again! Well, as whole as it could be without Lucille.

“Please, Mom! Let this work! Please!” he begged as the program paused.

**LOCATION NOT FOUND**

His fingers slowly curled into fists at the words that flashed on the screen. Those devastating words that told him he had failed. The signal strength from Alan had not been strong enough to send a source.

**SIGNAL LOST**

He stared at the monitor, frozen. He had failed. Betrayed his family, in a way, by not doing his duty. Maybe if he had held himself together last night, things would be different? He could have responded to his brother! Alan might already be out of there if he had just kept his cool and not broken down!

**WOULD YOU LIKE TO TRY AGAIN?**

The words seemed to mock him. His eyes drifted from the monitor to the immense technology that surrounded him. Technology that had allowed him to hack into the most secure networks. Track down precise coordinates for rescues. The power of a thousand super computers at his fingertips, and he could not pinpoint the most important signal of all; the sole signal that would save his family.

Because he could not keep his professionalism and had instead broken down, Alan was going to die alone beneath the rubble, waiting for a rescue that would never reach him.

If he was even still alive.

How was John going to explain this to his family? That he had let his baby brother die in terror? The pleading he had heard in the weak transmission had told John all he needed to know – Alan was in immense pain. He was scared. He wanted to go home to his family. That he was hoping John could save him.

Instead, John had failed his little star-ling.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/12 – 10:28 a.m. EST _

**Ground Zero, Scott and Virgil**

Virgil shifted back and forth on the balls of his feet as he sat on his ankles at the base of the Pile looking up at the mound of death through his tinted helmet visor. Beside him, his eldest brother was devouring a hot dog smothered with cheese, ketchup, mustard, and dill relish, his mouth looking like he was a child first learning to feed himself.

The sight would almost be comical if not for where they were; taking a break with other rescue workers after working for so many hours.

His gaze shifted over to the line of volunteers who had brought food and were serving it. Among them were some Wharton Academy seniors that had somehow managed to make their way up to the disaster area. The middle Tracy had – identity hidden – asked them why they were there before he had walked off.

_“Five of our peers and a teacher are buried here. We may not be allowed to help with the search, but we will represent Wharton Academy and our school spirit. We were attacked too, yesterday. As long as there is a chance that one of our student family will come out of this, be it dead or alive, we are going to help the volunteers who are able to dig.”_

The mini-speech had almost brought him to tears – and it would have if he had not spent all his tears on his misery the night prior. The kind of support these students were showing was incredible, in his eyes. They could be like the rest of Wharton Academy – been sent home to their families. It seemed like most of the nation had shut down. Some tried to carry on as normal in an effort to heal from the tragedy, while others stayed close to the ones they cherished. Families gathered together in prayer, silence, and love.

Then there was his family. The media was already calling them out, wondering where Jeff Tracy and his sons were while their family baby was buried. Why no statement had been made. Why none of them had been seen. Scrutiny had been thrown their way, rumors flew through the air, and they were being shaded.

It was ironic, actually. The media were claiming that Jeff did not care for his youngest son. If only they knew that he was running himself ragged trying to find him! That he was leading International Rescue and had been on scene since the beginning! That their family had been speaking with Alan just shortly before the first collapse!

The media would have had a field day with all that juicy information.

The ground crunched beneath his boots as he shifted to his heels for a moment before returning to his previous position. Looking down at the thick dusting of rubble, dirt, grit, and possibly little pieces of flesh – honestly, he did not want to think about it – he felt that hollowness deep within himself once more. Like nothing he did would matter. They were too late.

If only they had been faster. If only that storm had not grounded them. If only Alan…

Why had he always been hard on the teenager? Why had he unconsciously pushed him away though Alan had always tried to sneak into his good graces? Most of the time they got along. Virgil had even taught him to cook, like his mother had taught him. Alan had not been half bad at it, surprisingly. One of the few things he did not set fire to – unlike Scott, who had been banned from the kitchen by Onaha after a particularly fiery explosion.

He had even started to teach him to play the piano. While Alan was no Mozart, he knew a few songs and all the notes. What he lacked was focus and discipline. Then again, Alan rarely focused on such things unless it was astronomy. Virgil had never understood his fascination for the cold, distant balls of gas. Why did a fast-paced kid that slept a lot love the stars so much?

He had asked John once, but the older brother had refused to comment, stating that it was a question for Alan to answer, not him. Completely _rude_.

There were other things that puzzled Virgil about the teenager, such as his absolute hatred of the infirmary. Never before had he had a patient loathe medical help than Alan did. Or go so far as to try to escape the medical bay with a concussion. The many exploits became a sort of game for Virgil, trying to figure out a way to stop his brother from escaping while only using the act of sedation as a last resort.

Never before had he realized how many ways there were to escape before Alan came along. Be it a window, an air duct, or even on one of the medical tool carts or laundry hampers. It was a running joke in the family, trying to keep the teenager in the medical bay whenever he got himself hurt was quite the challenge. Considering how accident prone their youngest sibling was, it was quite often.

The mere thought of all the trouble he caused made the young doctor want to laugh. The thoughts of Alan’s exploits alone were enough to warm the heart. The gravity of the current situation robbed him of that ability, however.

Reaching down, he ran a gloved finger through the thick dust, drawing a picture. It was a nice outlet, providing him some much-needed distraction. He would much rather be running his fingers over the ivory keys of his piano, playing a song from Mozart or one of his own compositions, but this would have to do.

“Are you drawing a dragon?” Scott asked between bites as he studied his brother.

Virgil paused for a moment before wiping the dragon-like image clean. Helmet locked on his head, allowing him clean air to breathe, the middle Tracy sighed. They had almost gone through all their spare filters. He did not care, though. He was useful here. It was him and Jeff that had finished digging the last Port Authority officer out of the hole before passing him up to the long line of firemen and other rescuers. Their father had flown him to the nearest hospital in Thunderbird Two, after which Virgil had ordered him to rest.

The younger Tracy knew that he should join his father in sleep, at least that would be the smart choice. Yet there was no way he would leave Scott alone, with no back up. He would manage. At least Scott had managed to get some rest the night before. At least his brother was supposed to. Himself? He had neglected sleep for a mild breakdown that his father had witnessed. Something that had not happened in years.

The brunette hated showing such weakness. No, instead he would paint or play music, using his emotions to fuel him. He had no such outlet this time, something that he loathed. He felt like Gordon trapped without a pool, or Scott without his fast Thunderbird. John without his space station, their father without his coffee, and Alan without…

Sucking in a sharp breath, he clenched his eyes shut for a moment, shifting his focus to something else. Potato plants. Yes, that was a safe focus. Mashed potatoes, soup, baked potatoes dripping with butter and sour cream, dashed with salt and pepper.

The thought almost made him drool. Potatoes sounded so good right then.

When Scott shoved a cooked potato in front of him, the younger brother wanted to cry with delight as he discarded his helmet and began eating it. It was only after his second bite did he look at his brother questionably.

“You were muttering about potatoes, and so I found one for you,” the elder Tracy laughed. “Sorry, I can’t get you any sour cream, as that was one thing not donated, so I hope you like it plain.”

“It’s perfect,” he responded, smiling a bit. “Thank you.”

“Couldn’t let ya go hungry now! What kind of big brother would I be if I let you starve while I stuff myself full of hot dogs?” he questioned as he began on a second one.

“You’d be fat,” he snorted, grinning ear to ear. It felt good to laugh a bit.

“I am _not_ fat!”

“Mmm… a little pudgy. Too many hot dogs,” he teased back, poking him in the belly.

“Hmph! You’re as rude as Gordon sometimes, doc.”

He shook his head and continued to nibble on his potato, making every bite count. Savor the taste; that was the key to making it last longer. Out of his brothers, Virgil had always been the slower eater, preferring to take his time and enjoy his food instead of wolfing it down like the rest of the pack. Only his father mirrored him in this.

“What are you, a rabbit? Nibbling away at your food like that.”

“Shush. I’m going to take pleasure in my food. The taste is a bit bland, but still very desirable.”

“Musician, artist, doctor, food critique. You’re quite well-rounded,” Scott mused.

“Look who’s talking.”

“Wha- VIRGIL! I AM NOT FAT!” Scott cuffed him over the head before returning to his hot dog.

“Ow! I know you’re not. It’s just funny how you react,” he laughed, dodging another blow to the head and going back to his potato.

The two brothers sat in silent company, pleased that they had each other. They did not have to say much to each other, nor did they require words to pass along their thoughts and feelings. Each could silently understand the other. As the two chief Thunderbird pilots on missions, they easily bonded together. Each understanding the weight that was put on each of their shoulders. Split-second decisions were often made and communication was often limited to trust and instinct. Something Scott, Virgil, and even Gordon had learned to acquire as physically active field members of International Rescue. That dependability in the field often lingered into everyday life. The trio frequently gravitating to one another.

Perhaps that was why Alan had bonded with John so much. Both were so far away from home, unintentionally removed from the immediate family. They could each understand the longing and heartache that came with missing those they cared for deeply. The homesickness that plagued them both. Virgil knew of the pains the blonds faced, and he hated it – but what choice did they have? John was the only one who did not get completely space sick from being on the station for so long, and Alan had his schooling.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you last night,” Scott said finally once they had both finished their food and were now drinking bottled water.

Pulled from his thoughts, Virgil flicked his brown eyes over to him. “Dad told you to stay with Fermat, Scott. It’s all good. You got him off safe, right? No more asthma attacks? His head still doing okay? Wasn’t a bad concussion, luckily.”

“Yeah, he was fine. Should be halfway to the school by now, I would think. He has his spare inhaler and some extra cartridges with him that we found in Alan’s bag.”

The medic stiffened. That name again. He could not think about him again. He refused to any longer. Not until he had a better outlet.

Scott studied him for a moment before pulling out his phone. “Hey, watch this. Maybe it’ll cheer you up?”

The twenty-five-year-old frowned, but took the phone, watching the video play. Blinking a few times, he watched as Alan easily took on someone who was trying to punch him, by dodging and weaving about and throwing out playful insults that were met with hurtful ones. “That’s…”

“Yeah, taken yesterday morning. Seems that he’s been hiding things from us, according to Fermat. There’s a lot of videos on this website. I haven’t seen them all yet, but this one makes me laugh. He’s so dang sassy. Reminds me of Mom, truthfully.” Their mother had always been the sass master of the family.

Scrolling through the website, Virgil frowned. “What is this… This seems like a lot of cruel people. How many videos of Alan are there? Maybe we can find out some answers…?”

“I’ve been searching for some particular answers, honestly.”

When Scott failed to elaborate, Virgil sighed. “Something to do with various instances when he would not vid-chat, only audio?” At his brother’s raised eyebrow, he smirked a bit. “I’m not stupid, Scooter.”

“Fermat admitted that they were being bullied. That Alan would jump to his defense and usually get his ass handed to him.” He sighed. “But it cooled off a lot recently when he really started fighting back.”

He mentally shrugged and passed the phone back. “I see he’s still as feisty as ever.” He paused. “ _Was_ as feisty.”

Scott’s gaze lowered. He wanted to tell him that there was still hope. That Alan could still be alive. Truthfully, Scott prayed that Alan had already passed instead of still being trapped, unable to call for help. Buried alive.

Opening a comm. link, he looked at Virgil. “Say what you want to say to him. For all we know, he can hear us.”

“Scott…” Virgil glanced around, feeling as if everyone was watching, though no one was looking in their direction.

“Come on. Here, I’ll start. Alan, buddy, I know that we’ve missed out on a lot with you being at school and our visits rare and few in between. I’m sorry about that. We should have come around more, but with what we do… Ugh, no, that’s just an excuse. What we did was wrong. We missed out on a lot of your school functions. The convention – I heard you placed first, kid! Then there was the big group presentation you and Fermat did on… I don’t even know what it was about. I didn’t even know you had entered any competitions. Some older brother I am.”

Virgil looked at him oddly, making a mental note to ask him about this competition later. “You’re a great older brother.”

Scott shook his head. “Alan might not think so, Virge. We left him out so many times, and never really made time for him when he was away at school. For that, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I should have argued with Dad to keep you with us, Sprout. I should have intervened after your arm was dislocated. After the Hood, things were going so well for a while, and then I allowed us to slip back into old habits as soon as school started up again for the new semester. We fell into distance again. For that, I apologize.”

He gulped and closed his eyes. “There’s so many things I regret, Alan. If I had… If I had held onto Mom’s hand tighter…”

Virgil’s brown eyes widened in surprise at his brother’s words. “Scotty…”

Scott shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now. Alan, just know that I love you, and I’m so sorry for not being there for you. I may never get the chance to make it up for you, but if I do, I will be the best damn big brother ever. Teach ya to drive, even! Just…” He flicked his hand over the communicator and sighed, resting his head on a hand.

The younger Tracy put an arm around his shoulders, holding him close, not needing any words to tell him what he felt.

“ _Scott?_ ”

The eldest Tracy brother nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice. “John? You scared the heck out of me!” he cried.

“ _S-Sorry. Scott…_ ”

Virgil studied Scott’s expression as it shifted from startled to worried. Through his own headset, he could hear John’s odd sounding voice. Was the normally collected Tracy actually trembling?

“Johnny? What’s wrong?”

There was a deep shuddering breath. “ _I screwed up. I can’t trace it, and I failed! Scott, I can’t get ahold of Dad, and…_ ”

“Whoa, whoa. Slow down. What are you talking about? The signal? Alan? His signal’s been lost. You and Brains both confirmed that,” Scott responded softly, sparing a look with his middle brother.

“Stop beating yourself up, John,” Virgil attempted to comfort. “Dad’s resting – or at least he’s supposed to be. If you can’t get ahold of him, though, that means he’s sleeping like I ordered him to.” Unwillingly, a yawn left his own throat.

“ _No! You don’t understand! Guys, last night-_ ”

“We found a survivor!”

Both brothers shot up, immediately queasy as their food threatened to come back up from the swift movement and stared at the yeller for a moment in surprise.

“John, we’ll have to continue this later! Come on, Virgil!”

“ _Scott, wait! Al-_ ”

“We have a survivor found. We have to go! Thunderbird One and Two out!”

There was a rush as a large group moved into the Pile, Scott and Virgil hanging back to put on their helmets and exo-skeletal mech suits and following behind them.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/12 – 12:45 p.m. EST _

**Lakeshore Specialty Clinic**

“Johnny, I don’t want to talk to you right now,” Gordon growled as he ignored the call once again. Why was John trying so hard to talk to him after what he had spouted earlier? No, no, Gordon was going to ignore his older brother. He did not want to deal with his politically correct nonsense that took Alan out of the situation.

Turning his attention back to the television, he flopped his back as the announcement was made. Another survivor found and freed from the Pile – a woman from the Port Authority. A secretary, apparently. While it pleased him that someone else had been found, frustration made itself clear from his clenched fists.

“Damn it, Alan, where the hell are you?” he growled to a thankfully empty room. “Why can’t you just transmit? Hell, I’ll even take ghost form! Just so I know for sure! I should be out there helping look for you and others, but no, I had to be an idiot and get myself hurt! Since you weren’t there to help us out, the accident-prone bug dropped on me! Thanks a lot!”

Mentally berating himself, the former Olympian glanced back at the television again, watching the live footage of the woman being carried down the line of workers in a rescue gurney. The cheers that rose up from the workers after the woman was passed down did nothing more than fuel his rage.

“That should be you, Sprout. You should be alive right now. You’re downright impossible to kill! How many times have you been put into physical danger throughout the years? Nothing can hold you down! How can this possibly… Did it really take two buildings to end you?! Freakin’ stubborn ass,” he sighed. “Ugh, come on, Allie. This is not cool. How can you let some stupid buildings crush you?”

Closing his eyes, trying to detach himself from the reality of life, he realized how selfish he was being. Worrying only about his brother instead of all the other people trapped within the rubble like a true rescuer would. Then again as of right now, he was not a rescuer but a bedridden brother. Was he in the wrong to not particularly care about the other people dead rather than his missing brother? Damn all those others! He just wanted his little brother!

A stern knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. Glancing up warily, he checked the security monitor next to his bed. “Oh, Commander. Hey.” He buzzed him in, scowling a bit. “I have an excuse why I’m not at the Pile. Why aren’t you?”

The brunette had a scowl on his face to match his second youngest’s, though his was more tired. Despite Virgil’s orders, he had only slept fitfully after his message to Alan. A message that had more than likely not reached him. “I was ordered to rest.”

“Virgil?”

“Virgil.”

“Guy likes giving out orders,” the redhead muttered, crossing his arms.

A small grin formed on the patriarch’s face. “How are you doing, Gordon?” He looked over his bedridden son, whose leg was hoisted up on a ceiling sling. He could only imagine how angry his fiery son was about being trapped on the bed.

“Fine, I guess. Not quite a fan of being trapped in a bed, but at least I get to complain a bunch while you lot do the manual labor.” He looked him over, realizing that his father was wearing a Thunderbird Two uniform that was caked with dust. “Don’t you have a spare?”

“They were in the wash, if you recall, since we were supposed to be shut down until the storm blew over.” Jeff chuckled slightly before taking a seat beside his second youngest. “I’m about to head back to the Pile and continue the search. That, or meet with the President. It was mentioned that he wanted to meet with the Commander of International Rescue.”

That perked Gordon’s interest. “Whatever for? To yell at us for being late? For not doing enough? He can go and… Yeah, not going to finish that sentence…” He gave his father a sheepish expression.

Jeff rolled his eyes. “Maybe a little, but I believe the reasoning behind it – there’s not much more we can do here. They’re getting ready to bring in the cranes.”

“Cranes? Not much more we can do?! We can keep looking!”

“It’s not that simple, Gordon. We’re made for rescue, not recovery.”

“And there might still be people down there alive! What are we going to do, just abandon them? You can’t be serious!”

“It’s only a theory on what he wants, son. If he orders us to leave, we have no choice. You know that. No matter how much we want to stay and keep searching. If no one else is found within the next few hours, International Rescue will more than likely be sent away. Hope has faded from the country that more survivors will be found.” He looked to the floor solemnly, and Gordon realized just how much his father had aged in the past two days. “It’s faded from me, too. Finding that woman was a lucky break. The dogs can’t seem to find anyone else.”

Gordon closed his eyes, soaking in the silence between them, punctured only by an occasional newscast. To leave this place meant to leave Alan. That was something that he did not, and could not, allow. How his father would give in to such requests was beyond him.

He was not quite sure how exactly he lost control, but the next thing he knew was his father shouting his name while the television fizzled and sparked from the remote going through the screen.

Ignoring his father, he found himself wanting to go back in time to prevent Alan and Fermat from being in New York at all. Order them to come home for training. Let someone else take their place. Take Alan’s. Die in his brother’s stead.

It was not until he felt his father hand on his shoulder did the twenty-three-year-old realize he had started to cry. Wiping his nose on the back of his arm, he tried to stop the salty flow, but the tears refused to yield. He knew, deep down, if he wanted to truly stop them, he would have to give up on his only younger brother. He was not ready to admit that Alan could be dead. Entombed within a mass grave – perhaps even in several pieces.

His partner in crime. Best friend. Only younger brother. _Gone_.

It was not fair. Scott had four younger brothers to care for. John had three, Virgil two, and Gordon? Well, Gordon only had one, and now he was dead.

He was not aware of the sobs leaving his body as he came to the realization. His one duty was to protect Alan. He had always wanted a younger sibling to playfully torment, and as the years went on with no sign of growth in his mother’s belly – and many questions of when she was going to eat clay to make a baby due to some bad information from Virgil – he had begun to give up.

Then came the fateful date that his mother lobbed a blueberry muffin at their father and announced she was pregnant.

When that small little tater tot was placed into his arms when he was brought home for the first-time months later, Gordon could not stop smiling…

**F** **LASHBAC** **K**

_“Gordon? Come here, baby,” Lucille Tracy called gently as she sat down in the rocking chair of the nursery of Gordon’s old room._

_As the seven-year-old walked over, he glanced around at his former bedroom. He now had to double up with Virgil while Scott and John shared a room all because of this tiny thing that had grown in his mother’s belly. He was not one bit happy with it – Virgil snored. **Loudly**. It was fairly difficult for Gordon to get any sleep with Virgil around, and no one else wanted to share with the middle Tracy, so the two youngest had gotten their own rooms. Until now._

_The months leading up to Alan being brought home had been busy. He had switched rooms and his old room had taken on quite a change. Gone were his yellow walls, replaced with stark white. At least, until Virgil and his paints got involved. The wall that the wooden crib – the very maple crib that all the brothers had shared – leaned against was now home to a beautiful hand-painted mural of a sunset over the fields outside their paternal grandparents’ ranch._

_John had decided to join in on the fun and had painted the ceiling a dark color before placing glow-in-the dark stars and planets all over the ceiling and fan. Scott had joined in as well, doing his part by putting in a large picture of the USAF Thunderbirds on a different wall, while Gordon had put his favorite fish plush into the crib._

_“Is that him, Mommy?” the redhead questioned as he stopped in front of her, staring at the bundle of red blanket. Where was the baby?_

_“Mhm. You’re a big brother now, my little fish. This is Alan,” the tired mother responded with a smile on her face that made her cerulean eyes sparkle. She shifted the blanket just enough to show Gordon the face of his new sibling._

_Scrunching up his face, he stared at this odd little creature. He had seen babies before – never cared for them. This was different, however. This was **his** baby. Okay, his parents’ baby, but it was **his** baby brother! “He’s so… ugly!”_

_A roar of laughter broke out from behind him, and he whipped around to find his father and older brothers having filtered into the decorated room. “What?! He is!”_

_“Gordon, you can’t call a baby ugly!” soon-to-be fourteen-year-old Scott laughed. “That’s not very nice!”_

_John shot his older brother a dark look. “You called both Gordon and Virgil ugly when they first came home!”_

_“Yeah, well…” Scott scowled and crossed his arms unhappily. “Shut up, Johnny.”_

_“Make me, Scooter,” the platinum blond retorted, a challenge in his eyes._

_“Oh, I could take you on easily!”_

_“Oh, yeah? Put up your dukes!”_

_“Boys,” Jeff gently reprimanded, though the amusement was clear in his gaze._

_Gordon shared a look with Virgil, who shook his head at the ridiculousness of it, before he turned back to his mother. “He’s got hair like Johnny and you!”_

_“Mhm. Our eyes, too,” she responded. “Though, only time will tell if he’ll keep them.”_

_The youngster’s green eyes widened in terror. “WHAT?! HE’S GOING TO LOSE HIS EYES?! TAKE HIM BACK TO THE HOSPITAL IF HE’S GOING TO BE BROKEN! GET A NEW ONE!”_

_At the next round of laughter, Gordon pouted. “How can you guys be laughing?! He’s going to lose his eyes!”_

_Lucille wiped away the tears of mirth. “No, no, honey. All babies are born with blue eyes. In a few months, their true color appears. We were surprised at you and Virgil’s eyes being brown and green. Recessive, thrown-back genes. Virgil got his brown from my father, while you got your red hair and green eyes from your Dad’s father.”_

_He calmed down a bit, looking thoughtful. “Oh. Is Alan going to get that, too?”_

_“Only time will tell, honey. Now, would you like to hold him?”_

_“Uh-huh!” Gordon plopped himself down in the second, slightly smaller, rocking chair beside his mother and held out his arms. Listening to the instructions on how to hold him, he looked down at the red-clad tiny Tracy he now held._

_A sense of pride filled him as he traced a finger over his baby brother’s smooth cheek. Actually holding him, Gordon saw past the small wrinkles and saw the beauty within the small being. “Hiya, Allie! I’m Gordon, your big brother!” he introduced, a big smile crossing his face as he felt tiny fingers wrapping around his left index finger._

_In that moment, the seven-year-old made a vow – he would allow no harm to come to his little charge. This was his brother to protect, just as Virgil, John, and Scott were his protectors. “You and I are going to be such good friends. I’ll teach you all my tricks. I might be the king prankster, but you can be the prince, okay?”_

**E** **N** **D F** **LASHBAC** **K**

As the seasons changed over the years and Alan grew into a playful toddler, Gordon grew with him, taking charge of his little troublemaker-to-be. Having a younger brother was both a lot of fun and a lot of annoyance – the nights of constant crying were always the worst, but Gordon was prepared with ear plugs, since he had to share the room with Virgil.

When Alan became old enough, Gordon began to use him to reach the cookie jar on top of the fridge or have him distract Scott before Gordon pulled a big prank on him – especially when Scott’s head got too big from praise at doing well at school.

He remembered the nights the brothers spent camping under the stars on warm summer nights while their parents worked on Tracy Enterprise or went out on a date night. They would tell scary stories, watch the sunset together – and sometimes the sunrise – and just bond. Alan would always be the first to fall asleep, however, always curled up against one of them. It never failed – he was quite the sleepy snuggle bug when he wanted to be.

Even in recent years, there had been many times during school breaks where Gordon found Alan asleep in random places – once even in the cockpit of Thunderbird One. Alan only woke when Scott fired up the thrusters and brought him along on a mission. Other places Alan fell asleep constantly was on the beach, up on Satellite Hill, or on the floor of his bedroom instead of his bed.

Thinking of all this only broke his heart further, for he too had let his hope fade away, dwindling into little more than an ember.

His watch vibrated again, and instead of ignoring it this time since he would get in trouble with his father, he decided he was going to give John quite the rant to leave him alone. To hell with what his father said to him in return. “John, I swear! Just leave me alone, you politically correct piece of–”

“ _Alan attempted contact last night. He survived the collapse._ ”


	8. Voices In The Dark

_ 9/12 – 1:20 p.m. EST _

**World Trade Center Plaza, Beneath the Rubble**

He could smell death all around him. It was sickeningly sweet, like rotting meat mixed with a few drops of some fancy perfume. The strongest was just a few feet from him where Joshua lay in some stage of decay. His body – what Alan could see of it – seemed to be a bit bloated. Was that normal? The Tracy did not know. While he did remember his mother dying next to him, he could not recall her ever looking like that. Perhaps due to the fact that they had been found within hours, whereas he had been trapped for at least a day, if not more.

“Stupid transmitter!” he hoarsely yelled as he tried once more to fix the cruel device that was keeping him from being found. His tools were too big to reach the tiny chip. What he needed was something smaller than what he had. The thought of what Fermat had used to try to fix the circuitry on the Satellite Relay had him reaching up to his mouth. Then he remembered – he had not worn braces for almost a year now. Even if he was, how he supposed to heat it?

He was screwed.

Now, he had lost contact with his family, unable to hear their transmissions. Unable to hear their comforting voices, even when they were not talking directly to him. Had he screwed something up? Given his track record for screwing up, it was fairly likely. He was not known as Accident Prone Tracy for nothing! It was probably due to the last two transmissions he had received from his father and Scott. He had been so angry…

For hours, Alan had yelled for help. He had hit the concrete. Screamed hoarsely. Whistled. Even sang! No one could hear him. Why could not one person hear him?! Was he too far down? Was he too quiet? Was it the Hood messing with him like he said he was? Regardless of what the problem was, the answer was simple – without getting his watch in working order, Alan would never be able to get out of this burning hell.

The orange glow he had seen hours before in the dark had been spreading throughout the rubble below him. Now instead of being cold, he was overly warm, and the air was turning sour – and not just because of Joshua’s corpse-smell starting to fill the area. Honestly? He felt like a baked potato. A really gross potato covered in blood, sweat, tears, and grime. Absolutely disgusting. Not even a dog would eat him.

He wanted to yell some more, but his voice was practically empty. No one could hear him, so what was the point? The need to punch things was overwhelming, but the last time he had hit something, he had just made the pain in his arms all the more painful. His broken arm was almost numb by this point. Was that a good or bad thing? He was not quite sure.

Rage was starting to build up within him, replacing the numbness of his emotions. Surely by now others had been found, so they had to be still looking, right? From his family’s transmissions he could tell that they were starting to give up hope. Why did they keep calling it a Pile, anyway? It was just a few collapsed floors!

An understanding began to grow within him. The anger at being ignored and unheard. Left behind – waiting, broken, for a rescue that was not going to come. His family was giving up on him.

He had gotten a few transmissions over the hours before the signal cut out completely – from his father and Scott. His feelings. Admissions… All this time, Alan had thought that it was his mother’s death that had put the first strain into the relationship between father and child. Now he knew it had started before his birth, based on his father’s nerves about having yet another child that was so much younger than his brothers before him. He had known he had not been planned – the happy accident, John told him – but he had always hoped that his father had truly wanted him.

Alan barely remembered the time immediately following his mother’s death – for a lot of it he was in the hospital, Scott said. However, upon leaving the hospital, he remembered things being different. Misery had set upon the once happy home, ensnaring each Tracy with sorrow and longing. Their father drifted away from them, trapped within his own guilt and agony.

It got to the point that Alan had begun calling Scott ‘Dad’.

The blond was not quite sure when his father returned to the family in full, but he did recall how much busier he seemed to become as the Rescue began to take shape. New people entered his life. First Brains and Fermat, followed by Lady Penelope and Parker – his favorite babysitters by far – and finally the Belegants with Tin-Tin.

It was only short time after Tin-Tin entered the picture did his father send him away to boarding school – something he had not done with any of his other children. Sure, Alan’s brothers had gone to college – except for Gordon and Scott who both went into different branches of the military instead. However, neither were ever sent away!

It had been just another nail in the coffin of his closing off relationships with his family. Jealousy and longing for attention had driven so many nails into the theoretical wood, yet he had been surprised that after the events of the Hood he had been able to rekindle things with them, if only just.

Even Scott’s confession had told him that the family had slipped back into old habits while he was in school – out of sight, out of mind! Even when he was training during the summer and winter holidays he was not given the same training as Tin-Tin or Fermat. Though, Fermat’s training was mainly working with his father on the rescue vehicles and not on any real rescues except for maybe a backup pilot. Tin-Tin’s training included piloting and combat. Alan? Alan was kept in the cockpit. It was apparently where he was the most useful.

Darkly, Alan began to wonder why he was even bothering fixing the watch. What was the point, really? He was never going to be of true use with his family. Sure, he could outmaneuver even Scott with flying, and was amazing with piloting Thunderbirds Two and Four – second only to the primary pilots – yet he was not allowed to physically participate in a rescue unless absolutely needed. Tin-Tin saw more action than he did!

Now, if he got out of this mess, where would he be? Depending on his new physical limitations – namely with his buried legs – what would he be able to do? Was there even a point now?

Alan was hurt. Not just physically, but emotionally. He had only heard from John, Scott, and his father. Nothing from Virgil or Gordon, nor his extended family. Not even Fermat and Tin-Tin! Did he really seem to mean so little? Or were they still so busy? Was Fermat even alive? Had he gotten out of whatever this was?

He was filled with regret as well. He had not told his family that he loved them. Not enough times, at least. He had instead shut them almost completely out of his life if only to protect his own feelings when they could not make it to any of his school events. He had forced that hand and ignored their rare questions when they wondered why nothing seemed to happen at Wharton’s.

Why had he been so selfish? Just because he had known they would not make most of the school functions, he instead blocked them from knowing about them at all? Asked Brains to not say anything? Even Lady Penelope and Parker had appeared a few times, yet he had shut his own flesh and blood out. He had never given them a chance. He had saved himself from the disappointment, but them? He now knew he had filled them with guilt and regret. Stupid, selfish Alan.

He tried to pull himself from his dark thoughts – a difficult task to do as he glanced around the pit he found himself within. Cold, stark, and bleak. Smokey too! The fire below him was spreading, though it had yet to completely cut off his oxygen supply. How long would it be before he asphyxiated? That fire would only spread more and would soon overwhelm him.

“Joshua… I don’t know anymore. Do you think we’re going to get out of here? I’m starting to… to give up hope myself,” he said softly, sparing a glance over at the still body. His mind blocked out the reality of what the body now looked like; he only saw the boy he knew in school.

Beyond Joshua, Alan noticed a blurred figure with a warmth about her. She had long blonde hair that flowed about her, and a warm smile beneath her comforting cerulean orbs. There was something about her that brought peace to him, yet he did not want to see her. He was filled with fear of what she meant. What she stood for.

 _I’m here for you, my little star-ling,_ the figure spoke, her voice as soft as the wind blowing through a field of dandelions. _When you are ready, I will be here to take you home with open arms. We can be together again, free of the pain. At peace._

He shook his head, somehow knowing the ‘home’ she spoke of was not Tracy Island. He would not allow that. No, Alan planned on not only getting out of here, but going home to the tropical island. He planned on getting back to the pristine beaches and warm clear waters. He wanted to see the breeze blow through the jungle; he wanted to run along the twists and turns the paths took with Tin-Tin holding his hand. He wanted his future, whatever it may be.

“No. I’m going to live,” he argued with the spectral, using his bravest voice he could muster, though it trembled.

_You fight, my dreamer. You fight, and you will get home._

“I plan to,” he responded, resolve filling him as he looked down at the bits and pieces resting on his chest. Determined, he took a deep breath and returned to his work.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/12 – 2:30 p.m. EST _

**Ground Zero, Scott**

“You can’t be serious…,” Scott muttered as he stared at his father. He and Virgil had been pulled from the Pile at their father’s request. How was this happening? “Dad, we can’t leave! He’s still out there! John even said so!”

To say that Scott Carpenter Tracy was furious was an understatement. To say that he was ready to punch someone would be an overstretch. He was somewhere in between serenity and utter rage.

His father had just told him that they would be leaving that afternoon. That they had been dismissed, despite there still being a chance of survivors, however small. Even the most minuscule percentage was enough for Scott. Screw those in charge.

“You can’t save everyone, Scott,” Jeff said softly, sympathy in his sorrowful eyes. “I argued against this. Explained my reasoning… That Alan was still out there. We were still dismissed. We have been given until five to find Alan or International Rescue is to leave. They want…,” pausing, he trembled a bit. “The government wants to turn this into a sympathy circus, it seems. Send us away and let the country deal with it on their own. They had hundreds of volunteers from around the country coming in. We’re just outsiders.”

Beside them, Virgil watched with a neutral expression. This news had been expected, but still surprising to the middle-child Tracy. He had thought for sure they would have been asked to use their machines. The excavation pod. The Mole. Thunderbirds. Yet, they had been denied. Why had they been asked out here at all if they were not allowed to properly help out?! If they were so worried about people still being crushed, why were they being sent away?

Scott was still furious, but now more towards his father than the government – and only because his father was allowing this to happen. “Did you really just say that?” he asked, blue eyes narrowing dangerously. “ _You can’t save everyone_?! What the heck, Dad! Alan is down there, and you’re expecting us to give up on him!”

“Scott,” Virgil attempted to soothe, but was shut down immediately by a furious gaze.

“Do not patronize me! We should be allowed to stay and help! We’re International Rescue!”

“At this point, it’s recovery more than rescue,” Jeff brusquely stated, the fury in his eyes matching his first born. “Which, if you remember, is not what we do. Don’t for one second think that I don’t want to stay as much as you do! Especially knowing that he survived each of the collapses. However, you know what the rules are – once we are dismissed, we _must_ go. I’m lucky to have gotten us this much time!” He had gone over a similar argument with both Gordon and John just an hour before after first learning the news from the President. Like Scott, they had been furious – though more at the government than anything.

“I can’t believe you… Just giving up like that on your own son. Then again, you never wanted him to begin with.” When his father did not answer with anything but an extremely hurt expression, Scott turned around and began walking back to the Pile, pleased that his now tinted helmet blocked out the rage hardening his azure orbs.

If his father believed that he was going to leave the Pile before Alan was found, he was sorely mistaken. He would have to drag Scott out with broken limbs. Only when Scott’s body was broken would he leave. Kicking and screaming, if he had to!

Part of him regretted what he had said to his father, that his father had never wanted Alan to begin with, but damn if that was not true! Until the moment Alan was born, Jeff had been against it. Perhaps the other Tracy sons had not noticed, but thirteen-year-old Scott had. He had always been able to pick up on subtle hints and intention. It was one of his many talents.

Scott had seen what his father had turned into after Lucille Tracy had been killed. He had almost become the same way, but Alan had saved him. Scott had lost his grip on his mother that day. He had tried so hard but had not been able to hang on.

It was a memory that he would never be rid of. It was a recollection that had nearly ripped him apart. He had wanted to lock himself away like his father had, the guilt eating him away. He had wanted to die. Throw his life away like his father was doing. Drown himself in his sorrows. Drink heavily.

Four-year-old Alan had saved him. Fresh from being released from the hospital after his long recovery time after the avalanche, the tiny child was small and helpless. The four-year-old was lost. The youngest Tracy had not understood why his mother was not coming back. Why he had not seen her in a while. Thankfully, he did not seem to remember the avalanche, but the fear that came from it haunted him for many weeks. Fear of being trapped. Being so cold.

Scott walked up the Pile, shouting and hoping that someone would answer his calls. He was not the only one calling for any survivors. There were still several people on the rubble, forming bucket brigades to take rubble away and find who they could.

A lot of bodies were found that way.

Over three hundred dogs combed the rubble, many of them upset after not being able to find living survivors. Scott had seen this before, after the avalanche. Not only had his mother been killed, but several others that had been buried, perishing beneath the ice without seeing the sun one last time. The search and rescue dogs back then had been depressed after finding bodies instead of living victims.

Until Alan.

**F** **LASHBAC** **K**

_Seventeen-year-old Scott was frantic. He, John, and their father were scouring over the cold snow, searching for two of their own that had been swept away in the freak avalanche. Had it really only been a few hours before that they had all been laughing together? Planning the annual holiday trip to their paternal grandparents’ Kansas ranch?_

_There had been joy in their cabin as they joked and played around. Planning the evening’s dinner cooked by Lucille. Tomorrow would be Scott’s turn to attempt to cook, something no one was looking forward to. His mother had planned to make steak and cheesy potatoes. Carrots and peas, too. It was their favorite family meal._

_He had been anxiously awaiting the delicious food after a long day of skiing, snowboarding, and sledding. Now he was no longer hungry._

_The younger Tracy brothers, Virgil and Gordon, had been left back at the main lodge with their grandmother as the older Tracys joined in the hunt for survivors. For Lucille and Alan Tracy._

_They had protested, of course, wanting to help. Gordon yelling that he was old enough at eleven; Virgil at thirteen-and-a-half. Jeff had been adamant about them not coming along. To not see any mangled bodies. To not bear witness to such destruction._

_They were far too young._

_The brown haired, blue eyed Tracy was positive he could still feel his mother’s hand in his own as they had tried to outrun the avalanche by running to the side of the mountain out of harm’s way. They had all been so close to safety!_

_The power of the cascading snow had pulled them all down, but as Jeff, John, Scott, Virgil, and Gordon had been on the outskirts of it, they had not been buried further than their waists – chests for Virgil and Gordon. The matriarch and baby of the family had not been so lucky. The cold grip of ice and snow had ripped them away from him. From safety._

_The terror in his mother’s eyes. The acceptance. His baby brother’s screams. His father and brothers yelling when they turned around and found them gone._

_“Mom! Alan!” he called, his voice echoing around him. His breath was clearly visible in the sub-zero temperatures as darkness fell. Flicking on his large flashlight, he swept over the area. If not for the situation, he would have found the sparkling of the snow crystals beautiful and mesmerizing. Now he found a new respect for the whiteness of winter. A new fear._

_Shivering a bit, he adjusted his blue scarf knitted for him by his mother just a few short days ago. Each of the brothers had been given a matching scarf, gloves, and hat – Scott blue, John orange, Virgil green, Gordon yellow, and Alan red. Their favorite colors._

_Rubbing his gloved hands together, he blew into the palms, trying to warm up the frozen digits. How long had they been searching again? Ten people had been found alive, but so many more were missing. He was not even sure of the amount._

_Glancing down the way, he spotted his orange-clad younger brother, John, yelling for their missing family members. He felt sorrow for the fifteen-year-old. Tomorrow was John’s birthday, and instead of excitedly helping his mother bake the birthday cake or trying to guess what his presents were, the teenager was now out searching for his mother and youngest brother, the despair in his voice breaking Scott’s heart. Some birthday this had turned out to be._

_Turning his head in the opposite direction, the elder brother noticed their father’s brown-clad form searching several feet away, screaming for his lost lover and their baby. What would happen to Jeff Tracy if his wife and youngest child were not found alive? What would happen to the Tracys in general?_

_Scott glanced between the pair of them for a moment longer before the howl of a Saint Bernard drew his attention to a spot nearly fifty feet from him. Someone had been found!_

_Snowshoes slowing him down, he made his way to the mighty beast that was digging in the snow frantically. When he saw the light blue glove decorated with bedazzling put on there by Alan after he had discovered the craft supplies sticking out of the snow, he let out a shout to his father and younger brother. His mother had been found. Was Alan with her?_

_“Mom! Mom, we’re going to get you out! Just hold on, okay? You’re going to be okay! We’ve found you, and soon we’ll find Alan, too! He can’t be too far away!” He fell to his knees beside the dog, digging with enthusiasm as he kept talking to her, hoping to get a response. Why did her hand not move? Not grasp his whenever he touched it? The answer soon became apparent when he brushed the snow away from her face._

_Her skin no longer held warmth. It was as pale as death. Her cut lips and bruised eyelids were blue, blood frozen. Her head seemed to be at an awkward angle, facing up at him while the rest of her was sideways. Digging further, he found out why._

_Broken. His mother’s neck was broken. She was dead._

_Distraught, he paused, the world seeming to stop around him as he took in the information. His mother was gone. She was not going to wake up and say ‘gotcha’ like she did after pulling a prank with Gordon. She was not going to bake John’s birthday cake that night, nor frost it while all the boys were sleeping. She was never going to play music with Virgil again, nor sing Alan a lullaby under the stars._

_Feeling snow hit his face, he pulled himself out of his shock, if only. The dog was still digging around her._

_“Alan…?” he whispered more to himself as his frozen-burning fingers dug back into the snow. He was barely aware of his father and younger brother’s arrival. Their frantic sounds as they continued digging. His father’s pleas for his wife to wake and return to him._

_When the red glove was uncovered, followed by the sleeve of a red and white jacket, Scott nearly cried. Continuing to frantically dig, he uncovered his brother, form cradled against their mother’s body. Lips blue and skin pale._

_No, no, no! He could not possibly be dead too!_

_The Saint Bernard began to frantically lick the child’s face as they continued to dig. Production stopped the moment Alan’s eyelids lifted and he whimpered._

_Scott thought for sure he had been dreaming, but as his eyes locked onto his fellow blue-eyed Tracy son, he realized the truth. His baby brother had somehow survived his ordeal._

_“Alan…,” he heard John breathe out as the two brothers focused on trying to unbury and free the child. The Saint Bernard let out a loud howl, summoning help._

_No sooner had John and Scott unburied the smallest Tracy did Scott pick him up, opening his own jacket and pulling him in close to try and warm him up, not even registering why this was a bad move. “Shh… I got you, Allie… I got you,” he whispered, brushing his lips against the youngster’s cold forehead. “It’s okay now…”_

_He barely registered his father continuing digging. He felt John’s arms on his shoulders, pulling him back away from the body of their mother. Turning his head, he spotted the tears rolling down John’s face. “Johnny… He’s okay… He’s okay,” he reassured, sitting back and putting an arm around his other brother._

_John fell into the embrace, wrapping his arms tightly around the pair. Partly for comfort and partly for giving their littlest brother some warmth until other rescuers reached them._

_Scott managed to tune out his father’s cries. His crumbling form over his wife’s still partially buried body. Why could his father not focus on the fact that Alan was alive? That Lucille had given her life to save him._

_All that mattered to him was that Alan was okay. That he was alive. That was all he would allow himself to focus on. The pain could wait._

**E** **N** **D F** **LASHBAC** **K**

He remembered the precise moment when reality had set in the next day. The moment he had entered the cabin and found his second brother staring blankly at a cake pan that had been set out for the previous evening’s baking.

Scott had been confused for a moment as to why his brother was just standing there, staring at the discarded pan, when realization dawned on him. It was John’s birthday. Their mother never got to bake his cake.

He remembered pulling his brother into his arms, holding him close as he cried. He could not recall, however, whether or not he cried. All he knew was that his brothers needed him to help them cope. That John needed a birthday cake, even if it was a simple store-bought one, which Scott went out for a few hours after the event in the kitchen.

He recalled withdrawing into himself when no one wanted to celebrate. The candle-lit store-bought cake remained left on the counter until the sixteen wax candles melted into the frosting. He was not quite sure when the dessert had been thrown away.

When Alan had been transferred from the hospital a day or two later before they left the mountain resort to one closer to home, he was a shell of his former self. He had been so small and fragile, covered in casts and bandages. Tired, frightened eyes. Asking where Mama was.

He reminisced on how his father had stopped looking at Alan. How he would not even talk to him. How he seemed to not acknowledge his existence.

Scott had been forced to become a father that day. He and John took over caring for the youngest Tracy. Gordon became Alan’s new best friend, making sure he always had someone to play with. He taught Alan the way of pranks. They healed through the power of love and family. Virgil, however, took their father’s route in coping, but without the drinking.

It was not until months later did Scott realize just how hostile things between Virgil and the youngest Tracy became.

**F** **LASHBAC** **K**

_“I hate math with a passion,” Scott mumbled to himself as he struggled with his latest homework. “Sorry, Mom, but I guess I did not inherit your mathematical skills… Or maybe I just can’t focus on it,” he spoke up, looking at the framed photo of himself and his mother on the desk. It had been taking just a few days prior to her death, before they had gone on the fateful family vacation. It was hard to believe that it had already been four months since the avalanche._

_“I’m trying, Mom. I really am, but it’s so hard. Without you here, everything seems to just be falling apart. I don’t know what to do anymore. I can’t get through to Dad, and I can’t be a father yet. I don’t know if I’m doing a good enough job… The guys… They need you here. They need Dad. Yet, we’ve lost both of you,” he said softly to the frame with a wistful expression._

_“We’re adjusting, don’t worry. We’ll figure this out. We’re Tracys! We… We got this…” He closed his eyes a moment, willing the sorrow away to the best of his ability. John was sleeping on the bed behind him, and he did not want his younger brother to see him break down._

_However, that was not to be as John spoke up behind him. “It’s okay to cry, you know.”_

_Scott did not look back, though a small smile crossed his face. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”_

_“Kinda hard to sleep when you are talking, Scooter.”_

_“Yeah, well…” His eyes flicked up when he heard the distinct sounds of his younger brother crying. Why had Alan woken? Usually, he was a very sound sleeper and hard to wake. Sure, it had been a bumpy road with nightmares, but they had made it through. The dark dreams came less and less._

_Concerned, the elder brother put down his pencil into his textbook and pushed away from his desk. Getting up, he walked out of his room and down the hallway past the confused face of a sleepy Gordon, John hot on his heels._

_Gesturing for John to check on the younger brothers while he took care of Alan, Scott walked into his younger brother’s room to find Virgil standing over the bed, glaring down at the crying preschooler._

_“I hate you,” Virgil said to the young boy as tears streaked down his face. “Mom’s gone because of you! I wish you had died instead of her! We all do! You’re useless!”_

_Shocked, Scott grabbed his shoulder immediately and yanked him away. What all had his middle brother said to the youngest before he entered the room? “Virgil! That is enough!” he growled, pulling him out of the room and into the hallway. “What do you think you’re doing?! Alan isn’t to blame for the avalanche!” He looked at John, who was staring at the duo with shock from the doorway. “Go take care of Alan. He calms down the best for you.” To his satisfaction, John did what was requested immediately._

_“Mom could have run faster if she hadn’t had him, Scott! If Alan hadn’t wanted us all to sled together, none of us would have been up there! We would have already been down the mountain!” The angry fourteen-year-old’s fists shook in rage as he stared at the ground, hot tears streaming down his face. “And if you hadn’t let go of her hand, she would still be alive too! You’re just as much to blame! I hate you too!”_

_The elder brother blanched at his brother’s anger. Virgil’s words rang truth. That much he knew. “It was an accident, Virge. Alan’s not to blame. No one is!” He pulled him into a warm embrace, ignoring the pounding on his chest from the struggling teenager. “Please... Take it out on me but leave Alan alone. We almost lost him too…”_

_“Let me go! Let me go!”_

_Scott refused, holding him until Virgil stopped his struggling and instead wrapped his arms around his older brother, bawling his eyes out. “Let it out, Virge… Let it all out…” he soothed, rubbing his back gently._

_Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Scott looked up, surprised to find his father standing beside him, silently asking for permission to help comfort the sobbing teenager. With a smile, Scott carefully maneuvered Virgil into Jeff’s arms, feeling a great burden lift off his shoulders as he saw the man begin his return to the father he had once been._

**E** **N** **D F** **LASHBAC** **K**

Virgil’s breakdown that night had reawakened their father to the reality that he was losing his family. While Jeff and Scott had taken care of the angry teenager, John had been the one to calm their youngest down that night by taking him and Gordon out under the stars like their mother used to do.

It took weeks for Virgil to accept Alan back again as his brother. Even longer to stop blaming him, though Scott was positive the feelings were still there. Why would they not? He still felt rage at himself for failing their mother. Failing their family all those years ago. He worked through most of the feelings, but the wound was still there, never fully healing.

For a while, it had remained closed, opening again only around John’s birthday, which the space monitor had to be forced to celebrate, and it was usually Alan and Gordon who made him have a cake.

However, when the Hood invaded, bringing up the avalanche and telling Alan that Jeff had let their mother die – that they would have traded Alan for Lucille, the wound had been ripped wide open. The pain in the teenager’s eyes, seeing the familiar guilt that Scott constantly felt…

Watching Alan that day of terror had nearly given him a breakdown, especially after the incident in the Thunderbird One silo. For two hours, they had thought that Alan, Tin-Tin, and Fermat were dead. They had shut down, all of them. Forget trying to get back home. Forget revenge. All that they were left with was agony, misery, and regret. They had been ready to give up.

_“Can anyone hear us? Dad? Guys?”_

The voice had rose them from their stupor. Half-unsure of whether or not they were hearing things, it had been Scott that had gotten to the monitor first. Upon seeing his brother’s face with a few new scratches and reddened either from the sun or being burned, he had let out a shout to the rest of his trapped family that Alan was still alive.

_“We’re going to transfer control back to Thunderbird Five. Just hang on, okay?”_

Scott remembered the pride he had felt in his youngest brother. Pride and fear. By using the satellite direct link, he was putting himself into danger. All three of them were. The sound of gunshots broke the otherwise normality of the tropical island’s natural sounds. The fear that had taken over Alan’s almost calm expression as realization dawned on him. The terror that had spread throughout Scott at the new danger his brother was in.

_“Gah! Are they shooting at us?! We gotta go!”_

_“Found you, Alan.”_

The trio had been run ragged that day, trying to stay alive. Ultimately, they had all been caught. Tin-Tin turned into a servant until Thunderbird Two was ready for liftoff. Alan mentally tortured in ways that he was still recovering from. Fermat luckily spared for reasons that Scott still did not understand. Perhaps because the Hood acknowledged that Fermat was a budding genius?

Imprisonment had ended for all of them when the Hood finally left and the group on the Island had been able to get out of the freezer. Alan had not given up on his family. Why should they give up on him? He had survived the collapse!

Closing his eyes for a moment, he refocused himself. He would not lose another Tracy. He simply refused to allow it. Alan would be found, and no one would take the eldest Tracy brother away from that hell pit until he was.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/12 – 3:40 p.m. EST _

**Thunderbird Five**

He should be down there. John knew that he should be down with his father and brothers instead of up here in space. Forget that he was not a heavy lifter. Scratch that he was both hemophobic and necrophobic. He should be down there doing something. Anything. Even if it meant dealing with corpses.

Finding his mother’s mangled body had left the phobia upon the teenager’s shoulders, seeing her there in the snow. So much death that day. When his father had first mentioned Thunderbird Five, John knew that was where he had to be. He would never be able to go on the same rescues as the rest of his family. Really, the satellite station was the best place for him to be. He could still participate while keeping away from any corpses. Just seeing them through the helmet cameras was nerve-wracking enough!

It was almost all he saw through the helmet cams now. Settling the fact that they had now been given a _deadline_. How the President had done that to them, despite their father begging for more time, was cruel. If they did not find him by five o’clock EST, Alan would be left behind to die, if he was even still alive.

His attempts to get through to his missing sibling had increased upon the distressing news. He tried every International Rescue frequency. Every channel. Every nickname for his baby brother. He told stories. Jokes. Advice on how to get a signal out.

All he was met with was silence. Always silence. It was unnerving, if he was being honest, to not be spoken to by the chatterbox.

Normally, Alan would talk a mile a minute if he was feeling up to it, or at least speak a few paragraphs. Argue with him on space travel. Talk about the stars. Tell him about school, for the most part. Out of his brothers, John knew the most about his brother’s school life. How he struggled in some subjects but excelled in others. Typical teenager stuff. He knew he did not know everything, knowing that there were things that Alan kept back. This science convention that Scott had told him about – where Alan had taken first place in with Fermat – had come as a total surprise to the older blond.

What all did he not know about his youngest brother?

John was desperate to hear his brother’s voice again. To hear his laughter. His complaints about how he was not allowed to be anywhere near Thunderbird Three. John had once sent him the specifications of the mighty spaceship, encrypted, of course, just so when their father finally allowed it, Alan would be ready.

“This is not right. Come on, Alan… Please. You managed to get through earlier, but I wasn’t there. I… Just, please, Allie…”

“ _He’s not going to respond, John,_ ” Virgil’s voice rang out as his tiny holo-form appeared beside him. “ _He’s gone, just like Mom._ ”

John refused to listen to him. Virgil might have given up hope, but John refused. He would always refuse until he knew for certain. He was the beacon of hope in the family. He always had been the child filled with hope, just like Scott was full of love, Gordon with happiness, Virgil – normally – full of belief in himself and others, and Alan being the one full of big dreams and crazy ideas.

“And what if you’re wrong? What if we stop trying, and he’s still alive, Virge? I won’t give up and neither should you. He contacted me before; he could still do it again.”

Holo-Virgil sighed. “ _It’s easy for you, being up there. You don’t see… what we find except through the cameras. The mangled bodies. The final look upon faces. The smell. You have no idea what it’s like down here, being up in space all the time, John. Do what you have to, if it makes you feel better. I’m a doctor. I know what the probabilities of him still being alive are. We have no idea what his injuries are, but you said he sounded like he was in immense pain. We’re talking possible internal bleeding, broken bones, head trauma…_ ”

John’s eyes narrowed as he severed the connection with his brother. He did not want to exchange harsh words, especially when Virgil was right. He did not know what it was like down there. Not in the physical sense. He was a space monitor. He was built for minor space rescues, with just enough muscle to get anything needed done. Even his minor space rescues were few and far in between, as he could not go very far from Thunderbird Five.

No, while John was part of International Rescue, he was no hero. He was no rescuer. Simply the voice of hope. He only had to face Death once in person. Never again. Not even when the Hood had almost killed them all. They had not died that day. The air was running out, yes, slow and steady. It had not felt like dying. Just going to sleep. Eternal sleep.

He had heard people die over transmissions when International Rescue was not able to reach them. He spoke to them, offering them comfort in their final moments. He did not see any faces. He had not faced Death since his mother.

No, John did know what Death was like in the way his family did. He knew what the final moments were in a failed rescue. He spent them talking to the air until there was no longer a response. He did not see Death in the physical sense, but in the silence on the line. The last breaths. The soft sound of the air leaving the lungs for the last time.

Virgil was wrong. John knew Death. They were old acquaintances, having met for the first time many years ago in the snow. He had watched as Death took his mother from him while sparing Alan.

Since then, they had bumped into each other on numerous occasions. Despite John’s attempts, Death always came knocking, taking people before rescue could reach them. Death was a harsh creature, one that they would all have to face when they came to the end of the road.

He knew it was inevitable. That did not mean he wanted to give up on the person. He never did. He stayed until the end and beyond.

He would continue to contact Alan until the moment his death was confirmed. He would not give up until his brother’s corpse was found. No matter how many days passed, he would continue.

John would keep a line open, no matter what, and listen for his brother’s voice. Hope for his survival. His voice. His laughter.

John Tracy would wait, no matter how long it took. Until the word was given that he was to be brought back down to Tracy Island.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/12 – 4:50 p.m. EST _

**Ground Zero, Jeff**

Scott. John. Virgil. Gordon.

Alan.

Jeff could not say the names of his other four sons without adding the fifth. He had been running it through his mind several times, yet each time, Alan’s name always popped up. He could not scrub it from his mind. From his speech. If he were asked how many sons he had, he would always say five.

He was angry that his pleas to the President had gone unheeded. He had told him that there was a teenager in the Pile that had survived the collapse. However, he had not been able to confirm that the youth was still alive, and thus had still been dismissed, though their time had been extended.

Now time had almost run out, and there was no sign of Alan. No further contact made from him. No signal trace, and John had tried everything he could to get through.

Gripping a large piece of rubble within the mechanical grips, he set it aside and continued searching. Time was running out. No one else had been found alive in hours. The chances of survival were now down to less than one percent. He just had to face facts. They all did. Alan was gone.

Over two thousand people murdered. His own child. The baby he had not wanted until he first held him in his arms. The child he pushed away due to how much he looked like his beloved. The son he knew next to nothing about. The boy who had a whole other life at Wharton’s that his family never knew about. Alan, the one who had created a program to keep them out.

The son he had failed. The one who needed their rescue the most.

Continuing to sift through the debris, he could hear his sons talking over the comm. link. Talking about finding another body. Finding nothing. Alan.

The talk of Alan mainly came from John as he tried his hardest to reach Alan through any International Rescue frequency he could. The sheer desperation in his voice… Scott’s soft pleas. Gordon’s demands. Virgil…

“ _Hey, Sprout. Guess I finally better give in. Time’s running out. We’re about to leave. Sent away. See, I… I did not want to give in and send you a transmission like the others. I’d rather say what I want to your face, but now… Now it’s too late._ ”

Jeff paused in his work as he listened to his middle child speak. Virgil had been waiting to talk face to face? That explained his distance all day. His dark thoughts. Musings. Inability to escape reality.

“ _I’m sorry, Alan, for everything I’ve ever done. Even for things you don’t remember I’ve done. I’ve never forgot. I held you at arm’s length, blamed you without meaning to, for many things. You have no idea, Allie, how much I regret. I tried so hard… When the Hood invaded, I was so scared that I’d lose you or die before I could explain myself. I had no way to contact you. The Hood…_ ”

Virgil let out a shuddered breath. “ _That day I thought we’d leave you alone. The thought… I had never contemplated what might happen to you if we all died. Seeing you later that day, I realized just how real that terror was for you. How often did you watch us go on rescues and allow worry to fill you that one of us might not be coming home? How often did that fear fill you? How did we always fail to notice? Yet… now it is not one of us who has been lost. The roles have been somehow reversed by some cruel twist of fate, and I never told you how proud I was of you. I was never the big brother you deserved._ ”

Jeff’s gaze lowered at his son’s words. He could hear the pain. Regret. Sorrow. Longing. He swallowed, clenching a new slab of rubble as he listened.

“ _Listen, Alan. I hope you aren’t still alive. I hope that you have not been suffering all this time, waiting to be found. That’s a fate I would not wish on anyone, having seen it so many times. It’s a cruel fate that you might be holding onto hope that we’ll be coming…_ ”

Just what was he getting at?! Annoyance filled him at Virgil’s words. How could Virgil think about saying anything like that?! Telling him that it was okay to let go? Or was Virgil the only one talking sense? The only one telling Alan that it was okay to die, if he had not already. Jeff was not certain, but he did know that he was furious.

He was not the only one, as he heard his other sons retort with angry words.

Virgil continued, as if he had not heard them at all. “ _My biggest regret, however, is not being there for you enough. For letting my years old anger, petty rage, and all that other crap take over. For going neutral when all this happened. I shut down, let myself build up. This was not a normal rescue. This was personal, and it threw me back in time to the avalanche. The image of you buried, dead beneath all of this… I let myself shut down. My anger… Oh, it doesn’t matter.”_

“ _Alan, I’m going to miss you. You were the light of this family. The piece that held us brothers together – mostly – after Mom died. I say mostly because I was a huge ass about it all. What we will do if… I don’t know. I’ll try my hardest to keep us going. Gordon will tell us jokes, I’ll tend to medical ailments, John’ll stay in space, mapping the stars for you… Scott will continue to fly the fastest ‘Bird… Maybe he’ll even one day gain back the title of best pilot you stole from him._ ”

Jeff chuckled a bit, listening to that last statement. Scott had been miffed when he realized that Alan had become a better pilot than him. All the Tracys had been surprised by the development. Their baby’s natural talent and almost superhuman reflexes in the cockpit.

Checking the time, he felt misery fill him. “Boys… The time has come up. It is time for us to leave – preferably before we are escorted away,” he stated sorrowfully as he forced his emotions down. There was nothing they could do now. They were being dismissed. They had failed.

Twenty survivors out of thousands. Alan was among the dead now.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

**World Trade Center Plaza, Beneath the Rubble**

Alan’s mind was racing as he hit his watch on the concrete after not being able to reach the transmitter once again. He had been working so diligently for hours, trying to modify the cell phone inner workings for his ‘watch’. The exo-leg had been a tremendous help, yet he still was failing.

“Work you stupid piece of crap!” he silently shouted, his voice giving out on him yet again. He had gotten receiving transmissions back, yet still could not send one out. Part of him wondered if the Hood had something to do with it. Forcing this dilemma just to torture his family. How, though? Unless he was doing it through Alan’s mind…

He had gotten through once, when he had been so emotional after John’s message. However, he had only just found out that he had gotten through by overhearing his brothers begging for him within the past hour or so. He had no idea how he had managed it, and as far as he was aware he had not been able to repeat the process to his knowledge.

Fat angry tears streaked his filthy cheeks. A quiet wail left his lips. He was going to be left behind to die here, entombed by the concrete slabs that prevented his escape. Die alone, hearing their voices. They would never know that he was still alive. That he was so very close!

Crushing the watch in his fist, he cried. He did not care who heard him or if anyone could. His family had given up on him. He would die like his mother had, but not as quickly. No. He would waste away into nothing. Maybe if he was lucky, his body would be found within a few days. Perhaps he would even still be alive, little more than a skeletal figure of who he once was.

He had never wanted freedom more than in that moment. This restriction… If only he had a knife! He would cut himself free, even if it meant taking off his own legs. Was there nothing here he could use?!

Wild cerulean eyes searched the gray world around him for something sharp. There were rocks and rubble… steel rods encased in concrete. It would take far too long to try to pry one free.

He yanked on one, hoping that maybe it would work. It could be he would get lucky. Nails dug into the concrete again and again. Ignoring the cuts into his skin, the blood that coated his hands the longer he worked, the nails peeling off, he dug. Desperation was driving him senseless.

His father had always said that in an emergency, the best thing to do was to remain calm. He had kept to that motto whenever things went wrong in his life. Remain calm. Assess the situation. Devise a solution. Execute.

Unfortunately, Alan was far beyond that now. The time for calmness was over!

“ _Hey, Sprout. Guess I finally better give in. Time’s running out. We’re about to leave. Sent away. See, I… I did not want to give in and send you a transmission like the others. I’d rather say what I want to your face, but now… Now it’s too late._ ”

Virgil! His soft voice worked its way into the teenager’s mind. Calm. Collected. A stillness settled within him, not wanting to miss a single word.

“ _I’m sorry, Alan, for everything I’ve ever done. Even for things you don’t remember I’ve done. I’ve never forgot. I held you at arm’s length, blamed you without meaning to, for many things. You have no idea, Alan, how much I regret. I tried so hard… When the Hood invaded, I was so scared that I’d lose you or die before I could explain myself. I had no way to contact you. The Hood…_ ”

Alan closed his eyes, hearing the sorrow in his brother’s voice. He almost doubted this was Virgil, who did not show such negative emotion. Such sadness… It ripped at his heart to know that he was causing this pain within his family.

Picking up the watch, he continued to listen, desperate for the voice of his family.

“ _That day I thought we’d leave you alone. The thought… I had never contemplated what might happen to you if we all died. Seeing you later that day, I realized just how real that terror was for you. How often did you watch us go on rescues and allow worry to fill you that one of us might not be coming home? How often did that fear fill you? How did we always fail to notice? Yet… now it is not one of us who has been lost. The roles have been somehow reversed by some cruel twist of fate, and I never told you how proud I was of you. I was never the big brother you deserved._ ”

Virgil was proud of him? Actually proud? Alan could hardly contemplate this revelation. “But you were the big brother I needed…” he whispered, desperate tears filling his eyes. “All of you were… Please, don’t leave me behind…”

 “ _Listen, Alan. I hope you aren’t still alive. I hope that you have not been suffering all this time, waiting to be found. That’s a fate I would not wish on anyone, having seen it so many times. It’s a cruel fate that you might be holding onto hope that we’ll be coming…_ ”

No.

Alan could not be hearing that right. His brother wished he was dead. Wished him to give up hope. Wanted him gone.

The glowing figure by Joshua seemed to start taking on a sharper image. Growing stronger. Once again, she beckoned him over, but he shook his head. He could hear his brother still speaking, but the sound of his own pounding heart overwhelmed his sense of hearing.

No. No. No! They wanted him to give up!

Picking up the watch and his tools, he attempted to repair once more. However, his hands were trembling so much that he dropped the tiny instrument down into the rubble, lost. No! No!

He could not breathe. Gasps for the burning air around him left his lips as he struggled. He was not getting enough oxygen! The panic had completely overtaken him as fresh tears sprung to his eyes, his heart racing.

“No! How can this be happening?! They want me to give up?! They want me to just waste away?! Someone! Please! Someone listen to me!”

_Focus, Alan. Breathe._

Eyes widening, he looked around. Who? No. He had imagined it. There was no one here! Everyone was leaving him behind!

_You know who I am. I was in your situation a few years ago, Alan. Deep breaths._

The Hood! Not the lady in white!

Alan expected fear to fill him. Strangely, however, all he felt was calm as he followed the man’s words. As if his mind had been breached once again, a deep calm filling him. That was right. The Hood had been trapped and left behind in a diamond mine collapse. The Hood understood what he was going through. The panic. Fear. Hearing the voices of rescuers that could but would not come for him. The rage at being left behind. The want for revenge.

“I understand you, Hood. I finally… I finally understand why you wanted… I…”

_I thought you might. Hoped, really. You are an interesting child, Alan Tracy. Out of all your family, you are the one I like. Brave. Courageous. Foolish. Strong. You are much like me. You have untapped power. Potential for great things, be they terrible or virtuous. I find you fascinating._

At first, Alan wanted to argue. He was nothing like the Hood! Yet, he wondered. Was he? He was trapped in a situation similar to the enemy of the Tracys. He was lying, broken, trapped in rubble. Able to hear his rescuers, but they could not reach nor find him. They were giving up on him.

_You have the power to repair your communication device, Alan. You must believe in yourself. You must find that spark within and focus! Focus on the problem and fix it! You can do it without even thinking on it, but now you must do so knowingly! Prove to me that you are worthy of my help. Of survival, even if it means to be with your ridiculously goody two shoes family._

He snorted. Who would have thought the Hood could be funny? “I have no power. I’m not like you or the Belegants. I’m just the family… black sheep.”

_Foolish child. You always have. Have you never noticed that you can feel technology? You almost believed me earlier! What has changed? You know how when you sit behind the wheel or throttle, everything that did not make sense before does? How small devices would repair themselves at your touch? I told you last night that you had power._

His brow furrowed as he looked at his bloody fingers. His gaze shifted to the watch in his broken arm’s hand. Could he fix it? Like Fermat’s phone before…

_“Uh, A-Alan, my D-Dad’s not cr-created anyth-thing like that...”_

Yeah. He briefly remembered Fermat say that his father had not created a self-repairing circuitry. Alan remembered a warmth in his fingers as he had run them over the broken screen. _He_ had repaired the phone, not some new invention!

Staring hard at the watch, he paused, eyes flicking over to the woman in white, who surprisingly seemed to agree with the Hood. Silently, she urged him on, her cerulean eyes shifting to lilac.

 _Deep breaths, Alan. Focus on what you want. Remain calm. Assess the situation. Find the problem. Devise a solution. Execute! Breathe!_ The Hood and the woman both said at the same time.

He pictured the delicate circuitry within the watch. He remembered blueprints from when Brains had been inventing the devices. He had shown him how to work it if it ever broke, though Brains had been positive it would not happen.

_Breathe, Alan. You can do this. Go within._

It was as if he was delving within the device itself, guided by a soft hand. He was almost becoming one with the machine. He could feel the wires as his own veins. Ignore the broken holographic pieces; those did not matter just yet. No, his goal was much simpler. The broken transmitter, so delicate and small held within his palms. Holding the two pieces together, he pictured a whole microchip. Solid. Undamaged. Original.

 _That’s it, boy! Let the power flow through you! Relish in it! Mold it! Use it how you need!_ The Hood chanted.

The woman’s voice spoke up again. _You are doing well, my son. You will get through this. You are a fighter, Alan._

Warmth spread throughout his fingertips. Small sparks jumped from his skin to the microchip, fusing with it. Repairing before his very eyes. Just for extra measure, he focused on the broken holographic projector. Might as well try to fix it as well.

A pounding headache broke his concentration a small bit, and he chose to forgo fixing the battery, instead leaving it up to the exo-skeletal leg. He looked back at the watch, studying it. Had he done it? The Hood was no longer speaking to him, if he had been at all. Yet, the watch face was no longer crushed. It was as if it had never been broken. It was… He had…

“… _Maybe he’ll even one day gain back the title of best pilot you stole from him,_ ” Virgil finished, his voice bringing Alan back to reality.

Alan laughed at that statement as he set the watch back on his chest. Pressing a button, he spoke, hoping beyond hope that perhaps for once he had done something correctly. There was no way he was going to let Virgil get away with _that_ statement. Especially after how he had tried to get him to give up hope.

Besides, he had to make sure they knew it was him. It had to be memorable. Something that Gordon would tell at the dinner table for years afterward. There was only one phrase that would fulfill all these requirements.

“He’ll… have to go… through me… first,” he breathed, annoyed at how weak he sounded.

Silence ensued. Fear began to return. Maybe he had just imagined fixing the transmitter. But the watch face had been repaired, just like Fermat’s phone screen! Had the Hood been wrong? Had he? Who was he to believe the Hood?

“ _Boys… The time has come up. It is time for us to leave._ ”

Tears sprang to his eyes. No… No! It had not worked!

“ _Dad, we can’t leave! I don’t care if we’ve been dismissed! Alan’s still out there somewhere!_ ” Scott argued.

“ _Alan’s dead. More than likely, he died last night, succumbing to his injuries._ ”

Dad… Alan’s heart was breaking as he listened to his father’s words. His father believed him dead. Told everyone he was dead. His family had given up on him. “Dad, please…” he whispered, choking on his tears. “Don’t go…”

Jeff and Scott continued to argue over the comm., but Alan no longer listened.

How could they just leave him? Abandon and leave him here to die? It was not fair! What had he done wrong? Why did he deserve this Hell?

Looking over at the woman that stared back at him with misery and helplessness, a whimper left his throat. “Please… make them hear me…”

_I cannot, baby. I do not know what has gone wrong. I tried getting through once, on a cellular phone, but it did not last long enough._

Hearing the rumble of the Thunderbirds in almost no time at all, he let out a choked cry. They were gone. They had given up. They already had! Time had run out.

_I’m so sorry, Alan… You were meant to live a long life. Come with me, Allie-gator, and we will go to rest. You don’t have to be in pain any longer._

He was exhausted, so perhaps he had merely imagined it all. Mentally and physically drained. The coldness of death was there to welcome him at last, and he was ready to give in. To go with the woman that was now floating towards him, extending her hand. “I…” He began to raise his own, willing to take hers. Be pulled free of the broken shell he resided within and be at peace.

Something nagged at him, however. He could feel the Hood trying to stir him. Bring him back around to reality. Keep him from the woman in white.

_Tracys do not give up._

“My family did,” he muttered.

_They gave up on me as well, young Alan, yet I survived days trapped in the mine until I was able to dig myself free._

“You were wrong… I don’t have any powers…”

_You do, boy. I could feel you using them. I am not quite sure what went wrong. I could feel your strength from here. You will have to figure this out for yourself, if you are strong enough. I have finished my task. The rest is up to you._

Alan’s eyes widened. “You’re leaving me?! No, no! Don’t go! Please!” He hated how weak he sounded. How defenseless. Joshua was already gone, and the only one he could still communicate with was the Hood and the woman. “Please!”

When he received no reply, the teenager gave in to despair, picking up the watch and connected cell phone, ready to chuck them out of sight and let himself die. Maybe rip apart the exo-leg as well, as all it did was serve as a reminder of his family abandoning him.

Something held him back. A familiar, soft voice urging him to calm down. To not give in. The woman’s ghostly hand was upon his, holding him steady. The warm golden glow that surrounded her gave him comfort.

_Remain calm. Access the situation. Devise a solution. Execute._

Those words… Had he done something wrong when trying to fix the watch? Was that all that was wrong? Something simple?

_I will do what I can to aid you, as we are one in the same, my son. I know that deep down you will fight Death until the bitter end, so allow me to help._

A guiding hand lifted his fingers to the tool again. He understood. Whoever this woman was… Was it his mother? She kept calling him ‘son’, after all. Why was he only just now realizing this? She wanted him to live. Urged him on. Told him that it was not yet his time. He could not let her down.

As darkness fell, he continued to work, working on various solutions. Switching frequencies. Sending out transmission after transmission. Light returned. Daybreak? This was the second daybreak he could remember. Three days, he supposed? Had he really been trapped so long?

He was getting weaker. He knew death would claim him if he did not reach help. That he would have to go with his mother, though she sat beside him, guiding his weakened hands. Acting through his physical form. She made sure that his head moved towards the water pipe, taking in the fluid desperately needed, though his ravenous hunger made his stomach roar with anger.

“Please… Anyone… Dad… Someone… Rescue me…” he begged in a whisper, feeling his life slipping away. “I want… to go… home…”

Nothing but silence.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/13 – 6:30 a.m. HAST _

**Tracy Island**

Three mornings. Three mornings since Alan had been lost to them in the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center Twin Towers. A day since International Rescue had been sent away from the city when no one else could be found. Since the Tracy family emotionally shut down at the hard hit. All hope had been washed away – even from John.

Brains sighed softly as he walked through the silent house. No one played in the pool. No music came from Virgil’s grand piano. The hangers remained silent. A few soft sobs echoed down from the bedrooms corridor. Nothing new there.

The family had fallen apart at such a loss. Brains had not been in the Command Center when they had returned, having instead gone up to get John at Jeff’s order. However, he had come back to see the raging aftermath, finding Scott and Jeff at each other’s throats, Virgil standing between them, and Gordon in a wheelchair appearing fairly stoned from the pain medication.

Scott had, in his anger, thrown a glass paperweight at the wall before storming out, thunder crashing behind him. The others had slowly split off, with Virgil taking Gordon to the infirmary while John looked around the office wearily for a few moments before going to his room without another word.

Jeff had fallen silent, having stayed in the office a bit longer. Soon he, too, left for somewhere quiet to cool down and think. Brains, meanwhile, had gone down to the hanger to meet with Lady Penelope and Parker, who had arrived with the distraught Fermat.

Over two thousand people were still missing, hundreds of bodies and parts found, and only twenty survivors. It was a mission from hell, one that they would never recover from. A time of mourning had befallen the Tracy home, and each grieved alone for now. Only time would tell if they would grief together.

The single father did not blame them for this. It would be a long time for them to heal, if they ever did. Hell, even he was feeling lost without the youngest Tracy around. As with all the Tracy sons, he had seen Alan as another son or nephew. Especially Alan, given his close friendship with Fermat. He had watched Alan grow with pride in his heart, second to only his own son growing up. Gone out of his way to see that Alan had someone there for him when he had a track meet. He hated keeping such things from his employer and the other Tracys, but Alan had begged him to remain silent. Only due to the pleading had Brains listened. Now he wished he had not given in and had instead gone to Jeff with a mighty lecture about how Alan was being left out and forgotten. How he was turning into a man with no one to watch.

Fermat... Fermat had taken Alan’s death the hardest, blaming himself. Claiming that Alan never would have been in New York if not for him. Brains had done what he could to console his child as soon as he had been brought back thanks to Lady Penelope and Parker a few hours ago, but it never felt like enough. No, this was something that would forever scar his young son.

Spotting Jeff sitting in the lounge with his head in his hands, Brains was surprised, having thought for sure that the patriarch would have been up in his office trying to keep busy. Keeping away from reality. Yet, here he was, weary, wrought with grief and misery.

Part of him wanted to go to him and offer his comfort, yet he knew he was not wanted. Not yet, anyway. He had come here for a reason from his own private residence. He had documents he had accidentally left in Jeff’s office from _that_ day which he needed for his latest project. He had chosen to work on inventions and bettering equipment in wake of the disaster, so such things never happened again. That International Rescue would not be left so unprepared again – if it started back up, that is.

“Hiram. What are you doing?”

The balding engineer glanced around for a moment before realizing that it was Jeff speaking to him. “Mr. Tr-Tracy?” He stepped into the lounge and moved over to the man sitting on the orange sofa, the bright colors a stark contrast to the gloom.

Jeff slowly raised his head, revealing the reddened eyes, weak with tears long since shed. "I thought you'd be with Fermat? Given what he's gone through..." He felt a pain in his chest. His friend was lucky. Fermat was safe. Alive.

“He re-req-reque-asked to be al-alone for a fe-few mi-min-min-awhile.” When the Tracy patriarch failed to respond, Brains frowned again. “Mr. Tr-Tracy?”

The brunette sighed, listening to the quiet sounds around them as sunlight poured in through the no longer cloudy sky. The storm had passed a few hours before, leaving devastation in her wake despite the beautiful morning sky. “Why do we do this? This rescue business... We couldn’t even save... We… I…”

The engineer sat down quickly next to his friend, putting an arm around his shoulders as Jeff broke yet again. He quietly consoled his friend, hating this. Why? Jeff had already lost Lucille, and now he had lost his youngest son that was the spitting image of her in both looks and personality. It was like losing the Tracy matriarch all over again, in the same devastating way.

Brains still hoped, though it waned with each passing hour, that Alan might be found alive. The odds were against him, of course, but Alan was a Tracy. Not just any Tracy, but _Alan_ _Tracy_. The boy had nine lives. He was a survivor. A fighter. A boy with the spirit of both his parents, and the tenacity of his brothers. The stubbornness of a Tracy.

If anyone was to survive, Brains would have placed his cards on him.

Now, though, he was not so sure. This terrorist attack, the lives lost, and the toll taken on the Tracys was tearing at his heartstrings. Never in the years he knew them had he seen them all fall apart like this. Seen Jeff break down in heart-wrenching sobs. Not even when the Hood invaded and nearly destroyed everything.

Rubbing his friend’s back, he did his best to soothe him. He had no true words of comfort that would not downplay this tragedy. All he could do was listen and hope.

When Jeff eventually calmed down again, Brains smiled faintly as he offered him a tissue. Hearing a soft cough, he looked up to find Grandma Tracy walking towards them with a steaming mug of herbal tea.

“I’ll take it from here, dear,” she stated softly, her puffy eyes revealing that she too had been grieving at the loss of a grandchild. She had remained with him throughout the ordeal within the Command Center, taking shifts with him so they could both get rest while they monitored the situation.

Taking his dismissal, he got up, making a mental note to change his wet shirt, and returned to his previous task. Walking slowly up the steps to the main office, he opened the door a crack and paused, spotting an odd golden glow.

This struck him odd, as he had been under the impression that the office had been abandoned after the events of the previous day when the Tracys returned. As far as he was aware, no one else was anywhere near. Gordon was down in the infirmary – he had checked on him shortly before coming up to the main villa – Scott was taking his frustrations out on a punching bag, Virgil was in his room, and John was sitting in Alan’s room, looking at the books about space that the teenager had collected. At one time or another, he had tried to get in touch with all the boys, to offer some comfort, but they had all turned off their communicators and shut out the world.

So, who?

Knocking, he called out softly and fully opened the door. The room was faintly lit only by the morning sun coming from the opposite side of the Island, giving it a gloomy look, especially with the broken glass still gathered at the wall from Scott’s outburst.

He could have sworn that he had seen a woman in white touching the computers. She turned to him, held a finger to her lips, and smiled with a warmth that touched his very heart. She looked very familiar, with long blonde curls and cerulean eyes. Where had he seen her before? “W-Who are…?”

She shook her head and gestured for him to come closer, her form seeming to flicker a bit. _Please… He needs your help. He does not have long._

Was he communicating with a ghost? This was scientifically impossible! Ghosts simply did not exist. Such things were… They just were not right! This could be explained. A hologram of some sort. That had to be it. Quickly glancing around, he looked for the source, but the rest of the room was barely lit. No obvious sources of light nor any holographic patterns. Of course, who could hack into their servers? No one!

_Alan did._

Did that ghost just…

_Read your mind? Of course. I’m dead. I can do a lot of things now. Please, Brains. You must key it in. He has been trying for so long to break through. His strength is fading fast. He will not last another day._

“Who?”

_Alan. My son._

Brains took a stumbling step back, eyes wide with surprise. Was this… Could it…

_You can gawk later. Save him or this family will fall apart!_

Trembling a bit, he nodded and walked ever closer with stiff limbs. “What do you need me to do?”

_Open the channel. No one has heard his cries because they are coming from an unsecure and unfamiliar source._

That did make sense, he supposed. If Alan’s watch had been broken, he would have been trying to repair it. That would have changed things around – make it insecure and automatically block it from almost everything except Thunderbird Five. Even then, if Thunderbird Five detected it as a threat, it would be blocked as well. It never would have made it to Tracy Island.

He would have to bypass security and fix up communications quickly. For that, he would need John. Luckily, he knew exactly where he was. Looking up to thank the woman for her suggestion, he found her gone.

Without waiting another moment, he hurried out of the office in a mad dash for the elder blond Tracy. When he returned, he was practically dragging John behind him. This in turn gathered the attention of a few other Island residents – except infirmary-bound Gordon – and they trickled in to a messy sight as Brains began pulling apart paneling in the now activated Command center.

“What on Earth are you doing?!” Jeff commanded, staring at his friend that seemed to have finally lost his mind. “Stop that!” Clutched in his hand was the mug of soothing tea his mother had made him. “Hiram!”

“N-No! Id-Idea!” he looked at John, who was staring at him in confusion. “Unse-Unsecure fre-fre-fre-line!”

“Unsecure…” Brains’ madness suddenly made sense to the communications expert and he fell to his knees, helping him pull apart the once pristine console. “That makes perfect sense!”

Virgil and Scott looked completely confused, as lost as their father, whom they shared their concerned looks with. Grandma Tracy wandered in as well, wanting to know what was going on. Why everyone had gathered. The others on the Island had not been in the villa, so were not present in the room.

John and Brains ignored them as they began reconnecting wires, rerouting security, and finally plugged in one last cord, hoping beyond hope as they backed away from the console, waiting.

**NEW SIGNAL ACQUIRED. PERMISSION TO RECEIVE?**

John practically smashed the keyboard as he hit Y for ‘yes’. Eyes wide and filled with anxiousness, he stared at the screen frantically.

**FILTERING…**

Brains bit his lip and nervously stretched and crumpled his lab coat. Quite prayers left his lips as he hoped that this would work.

**TRANSMISSION RECEIVED. LOCATION – SOUTH WORLD TRADE CENTER, SUB-BASEMENT LEVEL**

The other Tracys in the office all unconsciously moved closer to the desk. Were they seeing… Was it possible? Could they finally be receiving the answer they had only hoped for?

Virgil wrinkled his shirt in his fingers, trying to stop the trembling in his limbs. Scott leaned on the desk, staring at the screen and not wanting to miss a thing. John did not bother to stop the trembles that coursed through him.

**BROADCASTING LIVE FEED**

Before their very eyes, a holographic form appeared. Ghostly and dark, it was hard to make out who it was, especially since it appeared to only be aimed at the chin. However, there was no mistaking the voice that went with the moving lips.

“ _Please... Please... answer... someone... Don’t leave me... please... I’m still here..._ ”

Jeff’s mug slipped from his fingers and shattered upon the floor, his breath stolen away as his brain recognized the sweet voice. The voice he thought he would never hear again. “A-Alan? Is that… Is that you?”

Similar silent reactions filled the room as those gathered realized what they were hearing and seeing. Tears sprang to the eyes of a few as they stared at the projection, hoping beyond hope that it was not a dying voice – that Alan was indeed speaking to them. This was their last chance. Final hope.

The form seemed to freeze as a soft gasp escaped the barely visible lips as the head began to shift into a more upright position, bringing the face of the one they thought lost back to reality. Tears were rolling down the teenager’s ashen face as he stared back at them. Though there were shadows, caked on grime and crusted blood could be seen across the Tracy baby’s features. His blue orbs filled with almost blurred clarity, blinking rapidly as he tried to decipher what he was seeing was true and not a torturous dream. With a shuddering breath and emotion-filled voice, Alan responded. “ _F…A…B._ ”


	9. Final Hours

_ 9/13 – 11:30 a.m. EST _

**World Trade Center, Beneath the Rubble**

He let his eyes droop. They were not coming for him. He could not be heard. He was being left to die. Even the woman in white, his mother, had left him alone. He was not sure where she had gone. She had only said she had an idea and had vanished. That she might not return as she was going to use the last of her strength for a while. He had not seen her since.

“Please... Please... answer... someone... Don’t leave me... please... I’m still here...” he begged in a whispery voice. This was his last call. His last transmission. He had very little strength left, fever finally setting in from infections that he was certain were running rampant throughout his body. He was going to die here at the bottom of his concrete prison, and now he had no one to take him to the afterlife. Help him find the light. He knew he was dying – whether from thirst, hunger, or from bleeding from internal injuries he was positive he had.

Why was he still alive? Was it due to plain genetic stubbornness or something else?

As a small dim blue light from somewhere near him washed over his face, he felt sure he was being called into death. It was the light that he had heard brought you into the afterlife. Heaven or whatever. Alan was not sure, but he was grateful. At long last, his suffering was over. He could let go. He could give in to the eternal sleep.

It was something he had never truly contemplated before. Death. Dying. Never before this tragedy had he associated such words with himself. Why would he? There was no point! He was the reckless wild child of the Tracy clan! Coming close to death a few times, and usually because of furious brothers that chased him around after he pulled a prank with Gordon or on Gordon. Never before – well, at least not since the avalanche – had he truly been on death’s door.

His family was long gone by now, having given up. They hadn't gotten his message. They did not have to hear him begging for help as their final memory of him. They did not have to see the tears that rolled down his cheeks.

He would never again feel the sand upon his feet, nor hear the waves pounding against the shore. Never again would his eyes behold the beauty of the stars. He would never fly again with his brothers and father, rescuing complete strangers. He would never see Fermat graduate and take up his father’s mantle or work beside him. He would never see how strong Tin-Tin could become. Never find out what kind of future they might have had together.

He would not see his father grow old and gray. He would not meet the future brides of his brothers – if they ever got off their lazy butts and finally started dating, that was. He would become the lost Tracy spoken of at family gatherings or told about to future children and grandchildren of the clan.

Would his family mourn for him? In what way? Would the Belegants and Hackenbackers? Would Tin-Tin weep?

He hoped Fermat would be strong. The young genius was brave, but had always relied on Alan to protect him from the bullies and cruelty of some of the students at school. Now Fermat was on his own. If only he could talk to him one more time and apologize for all the times that he was the bully himself without meaning to. The same could be said of the rest of his family. How many times had he been a huge jerk or temperamental teenager?

What was that shattering sound? Probably just another crumbling part of his personal hell. Dying was a slow and painful process. If anything, it was boring. At least Joshua had been graced with the presence of another. A friendly hand to hold while he passed on. Alan had no such comfort. Nothing but silence. Even his own mindless imaginings had abandoned him.

“ _A-Alan? Is that… Is that you?_ ”

Eyes widening slightly, Alan wondered if he had imagined the voice. It did not sound like the blonde woman nor the Hood. It sounded like his father! How was that possible, though? His father was hundreds of miles away! He had abandoned him! Left him to die. This had to be his mind playing a cruel trick on him. That, or the Hood was jerking him around. The transmitter was not working!

A soft gasp escaped his lips as he lifted his head, groaning softly at the effort it took. Dull eyes focused on the soft blue light of the holographic projector, blinking a few times as he tried to decipher what he was seeing. Was it real? Another dream? His family… They were staring back at him, eyes wide and filled with cautious hope.

Filling with emotion, a tremble ran through his body. He had done it. They had heard him. “F…A…B…” he whispered back, a fresh wave of tears overwhelming him. He did not bother trying to choke them back. There was no need for that any longer. The relief at finally being heard after so long was staggering.

He could hear their excited shouts, praises, and questions. He let his emotions show clear, as he knew they too were doing while they raced to the launch tubes that would take them down to the Thunderbirds.

He mumbled along to his father’s favorite catchphrase of ‘Thunderbirds Are Go’ as he laid his head back down, unable to keep it upright any longer. The strength just was not there. He was fading, just barely able to hang on. “Hurry…,” he murmured, trying his best to get their attention. To let them know just how precious time was. If he fell asleep now, he did not know if he would wake back up.

“ _Just hang on, Alan. We’re coming for you. You just need to hang on._ ”

Alan was not sure who was speaking. He only had one thought on his mind – staying alive long enough to see his family one last time.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/13 – 12:20 p.m. EST _

**Thunderbird One**

John wanted to hurl by the time Thunderbird One made it back to New York City. Scott had undoubtedly broken speed laws as he raced across the Pacific and the Mainland. It had been many years since he had ridden on the fastest ship in their small fleet, and though he was used to riding Thunderbird Three that was not quite as fast a journey as this felt. Nor with as much tension. In fact, he did not even have a uniform for Thunderbird One. Only for his own ship!

A small part of him wished he had remained behind; what was he thinking going along on this journey? With his phobia of corpses, going to a mass grave was suicidal almost. However, John had steeled himself against it, not allowing his fear to keep him from seeing his baby brother once more. He would not betray his little star-ling again. Besides, all four of them were needed, and since Gordon was down for the count, John had to step up.

Going on an actual rescue with his family was not something he was used to. It was strange, yet exciting and terrifying at the same time. He was not quite sure which feeling was the strongest at this point, as they were like wolves fighting for dominance. Adrenaline coursed through his body as he anxiously anticipated what he would see, what he would feel at the Pile, and more importantly he was anxious to pull his baby brother free.

Beside him, Virgil was trying to decide what scared him more – Scott’s crazed piloting or that Alan dying before they could reach him. What injuries did he have? How severe? What if they reached him and he passed away? What if Virgil did something wrong in treating his injuries? What if he was responsible for Alan dying?

A panic began to rise within him as he looked down through the bottom viewing window at the dust-covered Island of Manhattan once more. Scott was scouting for a landing spot, and Virgil could see people below them looking out their windows from apartments or from down on the streets at them, wondering what they were doing there. He knew that they had made no announcement to their arrival, so many people would be surprised. Hopefully, they would be met with no resistance.

Then again, he would absolutely love to see the force that tried to get between the four of them and Alan. He was certain a punch or two would be thrown before he managed to slip away from the group and up to where the coordinates landed if such a thing happened.

He wished they had brought his big green beauty but knew that it would have been too slow. Even the Mole would have been useless. Digging under that Pile would bring about disaster. There were too many chances of cave-ins, being trapped, or gobbling up any other survivors. No, they would have to go in from above. Several people had tried going in through the subway tunnels, but after the second collapse, it had become too unstable to use. Even for International Rescue.

Looking down at the specialized field kit he had set on his lap, he went over the contents once more. He had to make sure he had everything they would need. IV bags, an ion laser cutter for – heaven forbid – amputation, a portable oxygen tank and mask, among other necessities. He had made sure to grab the advance kit that even included a roll-up backboard – an invention of Brains’ – and extra bandages. He did not know what condition his brother would be in. Given the pain in his voice, he did have injuries, but what?

Listening to his father try to keep the youngest awake and alert, Virgil’s brow creased at the weakness in his brother’s usually boisterous voice. For Alan to show weakness was unheard of. The last time the middle brother had seen it was after a few nights of insomnia when the teenager had finally broken down after the events of that fateful spring break.

**F** **LASHBAC** **K**

_“Virgil?”_

_The medic looked up from where he was still cleaning up the mess left in the hanger after the trio’s battle with the Hood and his goons. He was a bit annoyed at all the foam spilt, the burn marks that now donned the floor from the hole in Thunderbird One’s silo door, among other things. They had been cleaning up the messes around the Island for several days, preferring to do it themselves. It was more out of necessity until Brains could make sure that all of the Hood’s meddling in their computer systems were wiped clean. No robots were being used anywhere around the Island. The Thunderbirds were grounded._

_Days of tireless thorough work left him not very happy with the trio, and the mess they had made, but that was thankfully outweighed by his relief that they had all escaped alive. The annoyance was more from having trouble sleeping. While he did get at least six hours of sleep a night over the past few days, it was more fitful than anything. All of them were struggling with the aftermath of the invasion._

_Turning his head to look at his little brother, Virgil was shocked at the deep bags that hung under Alan’s normally expressive eyes that were now dulled with something that the medic did not quite recognize. “Alan?” Setting down the cleaning supplies, Virgil straightened up and moved towards the teenager, eyes widening when Alan flinched away. “Easy, Sprout. It’s just me. What’s wrong?”_

_When was the last time he had seen his youngest brother? Alan seemed to have been shying away from all of them as reality crashed around them at what had happened. All of them seemed to have separated to process and accept what had happened. Each trying to move past the fact that their home felt violated in some way. Virgil remembered patching up his brother’s cracked ribs and releasing him to his own bed after a couple of days with the order to not strain himself. In fact, their father had been taking Alan around the villa in a wheelchair, just so he did not have to spend all his time in the infirmary._

_All the brothers had been startled and furious to learn what the Hood had done to Alan. Watching the security footage of the bank, they had seen not only their father hurt by being thrown back against the cage wall, but Alan being both thrown into a pillar and choked. The bruises on his throat that had formed had horrified the older Tracys._

_Despite everything, however, Alan had refused to open to them about the day. How bad things had gotten. Not one of them could get through to him. “Sprout? Have you been sleeping?” At Alan’s head shake, he frowned. “Do you need more painkillers? Having broken ribs before, I know it’s no picnic. Not even sure how you’re walking right now.” He moved closer, grasping his brother’s shoulders and guiding him to a bench, taking a seat next to him. “Talk to me, buddy.”_

_“Can’t sleep.”_

_Virgil had to force himself to not flinch at the raw voice. It appeared that Alan still was having some trouble speaking after being strangled. The bruises on his throat were still angry and ugly, a stark reminder of the suffering he had been put through in trying to stop the madman. Once more, Virgil felt the brotherly rage roar to life within him. The want to strike down the man who had dared harm his family’s baby. “Can’t sleep, huh? Can you tell me why?”_

_Alan stared at him a moment before looking at the concrete floor. He had an arm draped around his ribs, pain written across his face. “Scared…”_

_The older brother blinked in surprise. Never had he heard Alan outright admit that he was scared. At least not since his youngest brother had entered adolescence. How could he have missed that? Some doctor he was. “Are you having nightmares?” At Alan’s nod, the medic sighed softly and carefully embraced him. “Hey, it’s okay to admit that you’re scared. We still have no full grasp of what happened to you a couple days ago.”_

_“You all keep dying,” Alan whispered. “I’m always… too late…”_

_He drew in a sharp breath at that statement. No wonder his brother was having horrid dreams and refusing to sleep. “Oh, Allie… We’re right here, Sprout. I promise you that. Here and cleaning up the mess you lot made. I don’t think you’ve ever made such a mess before, honestly. Not even when pulling a prank with Gordon. That’s saying something.”_

_Feeling Alan’s shoulders start to tremble, Virgil stopped speaking and simply held him. This was a rare sight for the two of them to be so close, but right now he did not care. His brother needed him, and he would not abandon him in his hour of need. “Do you want something to help you sleep? It should mean you won’t have another nightmare tonight.”_

_“I don’t… I don’t want to sleep,” the teenager admitted through the tears he was trying so hard to hold back. “He won’t go away. Keeps… Keeps saying things…”_

_“Who? Who is saying things?”_

_“Who do you think?!” he retorted, almost sounding like his original sassy self. “He won’t get out of my head, Virge! I’ve tried almost everything!”_

_Virgil frowned, listening to him. Everything? “Alan, did you take anything?” Dread began to fill him at the implication that his brother might have somehow gotten ahold of some drugs to keep himself awake. What could it have been? Did he need to race his brother to the infirmary immediately?!_

_“I’m not that stupid, so stop tensing up,” the teenager muttered. “Just got into Dad’s coffee supply.”_

_Piercing his lips was all Virgil could do to keep from laughing. “No wonder he’s so cranky, kid. Stealing his caffeine? That takes guts. Not even Scott’s that brave. Did you drink any tonight?”_

_“No,” he sighed and leaned against his brother, head resting on his shoulder. “I just want to sleep, Virge… I want…”_

_“To feel safe again.” Virgil knew exactly what he meant. What the Hood had done in invading their very home, going through their possessions… It felt so wrong. Dirty, almost. “How about I come stay in your room with you? Would that help you feel safe?”_

_“Uh-huh.”_

_“Okay, then kiddo. I’m going to guess you abandoned your wheelchair somewhere, so you’re going to have to walk. Come on, let’s head up, okay?”_

**END FLASHBACK**

That night while Alan slept fitfully on his bed, Virgil had been joined by two of his other brothers since John was still down in the infirmary recovering from his own injuries. To say their father had woken them up with loud laughter upon finding four of his sons curled up on one bed together was an understatement.

He could not wait for such a thing to happen again. All of them together, just horsing around and having fun again. It was something of a dream! Now… Maybe, just maybe, it would come true.

“Alan, you need to keep talking. Don’t fall asleep. Come on, kiddo. Stay with me.”

His father’s concerned voice drew him out of his memory and he refocused himself on the sight before him. Scott was starting to land – very close to the Pile, actually. In fact, if Virgil was seeing this correctly, right next to it!

Once more amazed at his oldest brother’s piloting skills and abilities to get into tight spots with such a ship, the middle brother smiled. He would never admit it to Scott that he was slightly jealous about his ease in the cockpit. That he was somehow remaining calm despite everything going on.

“All right guys, time to disembark. John, Virgil, you two ready to head down?” Scott questioned, looking pointedly at his second brother.

John took a deep breath and nodded. He had no training on the exo-skeletal suits, so therefore would be sent into the Pile with his younger brother. “I won’t like it, but I’m not going to abandon Alan.” He looked over at Virgil and grabbed his helmet. “Lead the way.”

“With pleasure. Dad, we’re taking over talking to Alan. You and Scott get digging.” Pulling on his helmet, he switched to Alan’s new frequency, listening to his brother’s raspy breathing. “We’ve touched down, kiddo. You should have seen it! Wanna know something great? I think John’s going to barf due to Scott’s crazy piloting. I think he needs some more training. You should be his teacher,” he shot off in rapid fire, grinning at the glare his oldest brother gave him. Together with John, he climbed out of the silver and blue craft.

John glanced over at Virgil as they walked towards the Pile, ignoring the questions being shot their way by curious rescue personnel. He almost had to pause as he looked at the massive grave of steel and concrete. Virgil had been right – he had no idea what they had been put through in this pile of destruction. Even through his helmet he could smell the death of a thousand or more corpses. Already he could feel himself getting sick. Feel that familiar tremble in his hands as the thought of being near so many dead bodies began to make his phobia rise to the surface.

“ _Trying… Real tired… Don’t feel so good…_ ” Alan responded, his flat holo-form in Virgil’s helmet showing just how exhausted he was as he was weakly rolling his head around seemingly to attempt to keep awake. Sweat coated his face, letting Virgil know that his brother had at least a fever. What kind of infection did he have? “ _Don’t get sick… Not with Gordon… out of commission._ ”

John blinked, eyes widening in surprise. “How do you know about Gordon?” he asked softly, dreading the answer as he looked at the small projection inside the visor. ‘ _Please don’t say he could hear us,_ ’ he thought to himself. However, looking at how tight Virgil’s fists had clenched as they walked closer to the Pile and hearing his father and eldest brother’s sharp breaths, he knew the answer. How else could Alan have known?

“ _Transmitter… broken. Receiver… not so much…_ ”

Alan had heard them the entire time.

“Al…,” the older blond frowned, trembling slightly. How that must have felt? To know that they were giving up on him? Hear them leaving? He could not even begin to comprehend it. He did not _want_ to. Closing his eyes for a moment, he knew he had to change the subject. “Al, I told you the stars were dancing! They were trying to tell me that you were still alive!”

“ _Ma-Maybe I’ll… get to see them… again after all,_ ” Alan responded, a weary smile upon his face. He seemed to be grateful for the subject change.

He breathed a sigh of relief as Alan accepted the switch. Now he could focus better on climbing up this pile of misery, following his younger brother and the coordinates he held in his wrist computer. “I will see to that personally, bud. Don’t you fret. Now you keep awake, you hear me? What happened to my adrenaline junkie brother?”

“ _Uh, John, isn’t that Scott?_ ” Gordon commented from back on Tracy Island, his holo-form looking amused but sleepy. “ _Mr. I-Have-To-Fly-the-Fastest-Bird?_ ”

The platinum blond grinned. “Oh, no. Scott is nothing compared to this guy.”

“ _What are you talking about?_ ” Scott questioned, finally pitching in.

John glanced behind him as his father and eldest brother joined them on the Pile with their exo-skeletons. While they had some catching up to do, it was nice that they were going to reach the path down quickly. Returning his attention to where he was going, hauling himself up past a steel beam, he laughed. “Oh, I think Alan should tell you about this one.”

“ _Do tell!_ ” Gordon demanded. “ _The lame demand entertainment!_ ”

Holo-Alan managed a scowl as he shifted his head again. “ _John… gonna get me… in trouble._ ” However, John’s subject opening did seem to wake him a bit more. “ _Dad might just… leave me in here… if he finds out!_ ”

There was a mixture of snorts and questions on the various lines, and John laughed. “Come on, Al. Might as well get all your troublemaking out and over with for the day. I’m fairly certain you’re going to shock them all!” Not to mention it would keep him awake, hopefully. It seemed to be doing a good job already!

“ _Come on, Alan! Spill! Why is John calling you an adrenaline junkie? You never do much of anything but sit around at home! Or sleep! Rock climb, on occasion!_ ” Gordon teased. “ _But mainly sleep unless you’re flying! Come on! Tell meeee. Please?! Pretty please?_ ”

“ _I… uh… Well… Ah, John…_ ”

“He’s not going to leave you alone until you spill the beans, kiddo. You can kill me later for starting this.”

“ _Don’t think I won’t… Spaceman,_ ” Alan and shook his head again. John was starting to wonder why he kept doing so. With all the dirt and crusted blood on his brother’s ashen face, he could not tell if he was sick or not. The movements however, seemed to speak of a fever. More reason to keep his brother awake to the best of his ability. “ _I can’t do what I… like on the Island, Gordo._ ”

“ _Oh, bull. We can do anything!_ ”

“ _I can’t race cars…_ ”

John burst out laughing at the shocked expression on his second youngest brother’s holo-form. He could see by other video feeds that his father and other brothers were just as surprised about this admission. Oh boy was Alan going to get it. “Told you he was an adrenaline junkie. Kid absolutely loves racing, and he’s pretty darn good at it too, from the video I found.”

“ _Forgot I sent… you that…_ ”

“ _You have a file?! Gimme!_ ”

“Uh, Gordo. I’m a little busy at the moment. I’m currently climbing on the Pile.” John noticed immediately his youngest brother looked confused. “Alan?”

“ _Why do you guys… keep saying ‘pile’?_ ”

“Uh, well… We’ll explain when I pull you out with Virge?”

Holo-Alan lifted his head, staring at the holographic projector with confusion. “ _You’re down from ‘Five?_ ”

“Kid, you’ve been missing for three days. You think I’m _not_ going to come down?” Had it really been so long since he had been Earthbound? Was that perhaps why Alan seemed so surprised?

“ _Three… days?_ ”

“Yeah. You’ve been buried under the Towers for quite a while.”

The teenager frowned, confusion evident on his blood-and-grime encrusted face. “ _Wait, what? What do you mean… under the Towers?_ ”

This time, Scott spoke up, saying what none of the others could. “ _Alan, the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center collapsed on the eleventh. All that’s left is a pile of rubble. You and countless others…_ ”

Alan was silent for a few minutes. It was only the sight of his holo-form that let John know that his brother was still awake. “ _That… explains all the rubble… and why you couldn’t… hear us._ ”

“ _Us? Alan, are there others near you?_ ” Jeff questioned, his voice sounding hopeful.

“ _Joshua._ ”

The medic sighed a moment, pleased to have someone else still living. “ _How’s he doing? Injuries?_ ”

The pain written across Alan’s face set John on edge. “ _He’s dead. Days ago, I guess… It was… was like with Mom… I held his hand. He wouldn’t… wouldn’t wake up…_ ”

John did not have to look at anyone else to know what they were thinking. To see the heartache written across their faces. He knew all their minds had traveled back to what the Hood had revealed and done when he had captured Alan. How he had toyed with his mind and brought semi-dormant memories back to the surface, forcing Alan to relive his mother’s death.

Lucille Tracy had not died instantly, as the brothers had originally thought. Only Alan and Jeff had known the truth – that she suffocated to death. It was only when the Hood attacked did they learn just how much Alan truly remembered. How many demons he held within. Phobias.

John closed his eyes. He remembered the voices he would hear in their final moments on various rescues. Voices that haunted him still. He had always hoped that Alan would not experience anything quite like that for many more years, until he realized that Alan remembered the one voice that would torment him forever. To hear Death come calling…

He did not know what to say that would comfort his brother. Nothing that would matter, at least.

The platinum blond could feel the bile rising in his throat at the implication. Alan had been spending the past three days next to a corpse. Body of a fellow student. His bully. Yet, he still had the compassion to hold the boy’s hand as he passed.

Feeling Virgil’s hand immediately on his shoulder, he looked over at his helmeted sibling gratefully.

“ _Steady, John,_ ” the medic murmured, doing his best to calm down the older Tracy. “ _Do you want to turn back? You’re shaking bad, Spaceman. I can do this on my own. It’s not ideal, but…_ ”

John looked down at his hands, trying to get them to stop. This weakness was something he loathed. How could this be happening? He was here to save Alan, and yet just hearing that his brother had been lying next to a corpse for three days had set him off. Beads of sweat trailed down his face as he took a shuddering breath. ‘ _Stop, John. You have to stop this. Control it! Alan needs you! Think of Alan!_ ’ he ordered himself with clenched eyes. He could hear his youngest brother, telling him it was okay to turn back. “No… I’m not turning back,” he huffed, taking another deep breath. “I said I was coming for you, and I’m going to.”

“ _John, if you need to take a break…_ ” Jeff spoke up, but John cut him off.

“I’m fine, Commander! Let’s go get our boy, Virgil!” He opened his eyes and began walking.

“ _Lead the way, Spaceman_ ,” Virgil responded, sending him the tracking information to his own wrist-computer.

John nodded and continued walking.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/12 – 1:40 p.m. EST / 7:40 HAST _

**Tracy Island**

Her fingers dragged across the cool surface of the partially-destroyed Command Center console as she formed fists, knuckles resting on the flat table. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest, partially making her wonder why no one had yet told her to be quiet. Before her were the holographic forms of the Tracy family streaming from their portraits in front of the loading tubes, while on the console was Alan. Her Alan. Still alive and communicating with them. Doing his best to stay awake, despite the fever she could see raging about him.

It had been a long time since she had seen Alan in such a sick state, but this reminded her of it greatly. The way he spoke. The sheen of sweat. The struggle to stay awake. It had been after he had gotten an infection in a wound he had not properly cleaned nor told Virgil about back when they were twelve and he was home for the summer. It had been bad enough that he almost ended up on the mainland from blood poisoning. Never again did she want to witness such an event, yet here it was before her again.

Virgil and John were talking about how bad the climb down into the rubble was. They had gone straight down with no aid, not waiting for the path to be cleared. They were forging their own way down, pushing past rubble and other debris. Who knew what else?

She should have been there instead of having locked herself away in her room weeping like a child. Alan had needed her, and she had instead given in to her despair. Not even her parents had been able to rouse her from her tear-soaked bed, nor stop her from losing control of her abilities and trashing her room mightily.

It was not until the announcement went out across the radios that connected the other houses to the main villa had she relented. Alan was alive. They had his coordinates. He was coming home.

She had wondered what had brought Thunderbird One roaring out of the hidden silo when she had seen it hours before, but nothing had prepared her for what was really happening. Where they were going.

She had met with Fermat on the way to running up to the villa, her parents helping him make it up the path with his portable oxygen mask. He was still suffering from the horrid air that had been in Manhattan. Mix it with his excitement that his best friend was still alive and communicating had caused an asthma attack.

Beside her, her parents were wearing similar expressions of horror and delight. Tin-Tin could understand why her parents were in such a state. No one had believed that the youngest Tracy was still alive. Not when the last person found alive had been almost an entire day before. That he had survived despite the Hell he was currently in was nothing short of astounding.

Alan was going to come home.

The phrase seemed foreign in her mind. She never thought to have been able to string those six words together into one sentence ever again. He was coming home to her.

 ‘ _To me? Ah, what am I thinking? He is not coming home to me! I probably don’t even register on his radar! **Bodoh!**_ ’ Her cheeks flushed hot at the thoughts coming to her mind. She was hoping beyond hope that Alan would return to her the same way he had left her, yet she knew it was not true. Even when he returned, he would be forever changed.

Taking a deep breath, she looked at him. “Alan? **_Boleh awak dengar aku_** _?_ ” Could he hear her?

Almost immediately, she noticed the silence that filled the lines as the other Tracys had respectfully dropped out to allow her to talk. To try and reach him in ways they were failing as he slipped further away to his own injuries.

“ _Tolong_ , Alan. _Jawab soalan saya. Biarkan saya mendengar suara anda lagi, kawan saya._ ” All she wanted was to hear his voice again. Have him answer her. It was all she wanted in that moment. However, as precious seconds trickled by, she lowered her gaze to the floor beneath her, feeling fresh angry tears form in her eyes. She was angry at the people that had done this to her best friend. Now she might lose him forever! “ _Tolong_ , Alan! _Jangan tinggalkan saya. Saya tidak boleh menjalani kehidupan ini tanpa anda di sini._ ” Her words came out in a whisper as she asked him to not leave her. How could she possibly live life without him here? He was her very best friend – her first friend! The boy she had come to love.

These past few days after learning what had happened had made her realize just how much she loved him. How her feelings had changed. Before it had been friendship that had turned into a crush. Now it was something much different. This heartache was killing her from within. Never had she felt such agony!

“ _Tin…? **Saya tidak… akan pergi ke… mana-mana sahaja. Saya akan… pulang ke rumah…**_ ”

Her uncombed hair jumped slightly as her head shot up to stare at the screen, finding him staring back at her. His response of not going anywhere but home began to turn her agony into hope. Her sorrow into joy.

Feeling a pair of hands on her shoulders, she tore her eyes away from his holo-form just long enough to share a tear-filled look with her parents. Returning her gaze back to him, she swallowed back her despair. “Alan…”

He let out a weak chuckle. “ _Is this… a bad time… to ask you to go… to the Winter Formal as my date?_ ”

A watery laugh left her lips, echoed only by Fermat. Alan wanted to ask her to the dance? Is that why he had been so quiet and awkward before she had left for Malaysia with Lady Penelope and Parker?

“He’s been tr-trying to fi-figure out a w-way to ask you,” the young Hackenbacker smiled, feeling better than he had in a long time. “He wanted it to be dr-dramatic.”

She grinned, putting a hand over her lips to hide her great amusement. That explained so much! He had been trying to ask her out! “ _Palam Pencucuh_ , you always have a flare for the dramatic. You did not have to drop a couple buildings on yourself to get my attention. All you had to do was ask. I would have said yes! I’ve been waiting ages for you to ask me out! Frankly, I was starting to wonder if you even liked me at all.”

“ _Heh, you have… no idea, Tin._ ”

“It’s about time you got around to it!”

“ _Really? Ya sure about that, **Kerang**?_”

She rolled her eyes at his teasing and playful nickname of ‘seashells’, referring to when she had first come to the Island and they had gone hunting seashells together. As such, she had given him a similar nickname of ‘ _Palamn Pencucuh_ ’, which meant ‘spark plug’, referring to when he had been showing off and had nearly gotten electrecuted. “Of course, you _bodoh_! Lady Penelope was right – you Tracy boys are so dense sometimes! You especially!”

“ _Well…_ ”

“Awe, young love!” Gordon snorted as he was pushed into the room by Grandma Tracy, having had enough of being trapped in the infirmary when all the action was either in New York or in the Command Center. “So cute!”

“ _Tutup mulutmu_ , Gordon Tracy!” she spat, rounding on him and unconsciously throwing a few crumbled papers from the trash can at his head with her telekinesis. She would not allow him to ruin this for her!

“Tin-Tin!” Onaha scolded. “ _Jaga adab kau!_ ”

He held up his hands, barely blocking her attack. “Touchy! Totally forgot about that thing you can do. Alan’s going to have his hands full with you. Uh, no pun intended!”

“Allow me to demonstrate further, _nafas ikan!_ ”

Alan’s laughter brought her attention back to the projector, calming the raging storm within her just slightly. “ _Fish breath, Tin?_ ”

“It’s true,” she muttered, crossing her arms.

“I do not have fish breath!” Gordon argued.

“You stink like a fish,” she shot back.

“ _Completely true, Gordo. She’s got you there,_ ” John piped up.

“Oh, shut it, Spaceman!”

Tin-Tin tuned them out for a moment, ready to speak to her golden-haired friend – boyfriend? Could she call him that now? – once more when she noticed Brains sitting in his seat with confusion on his face. “What’s wrong, Brains?” she questioned, moving away from the projector for a few moments so that Gordon could talk more to his brothers.

He jumped a bit at her touch but relaxed soon enough. “A-Alan said that his tr-transmitter was broken. If that is tr-true, then there is no w-wa-way that he sho-should be able to com-com-com-talk to us.”

“But he fixed it? That’s how he’s communicating with us.” She glanced around at the exposed wiring. “Just like you, uh, fixed it so he could get through.”

He shook his head and ran his hand over his balding head. “You mis-misunderstand, Tin-Tin. N-None of their e-emergency too-tools has the ne-necessities to re-repair it. Th-That’s why there is al-always a se-secondary co-communication de-device for the boys.”

“Which Alan did not have,” she recalled. The secondary devices were their phones, which Alan had given up in favor of just a watch communicator. Something about constantly losing his. “Then how…?”

He shrugged, looking just as confused as she felt.

The teenager looked over at her father, who had turned from the holo-Tracys to pay attention to her conversation. “Was it…?” Had her uncle been correct? Was her friend one of them? A _Berbekat_? Moving over towards the projector once more, she took a deep breath. “Alan? How did you fix your watch?”

“ _He… called me a… **Berbekat** **mekanik** ,_” the trapped Tracy responded, his voice wobbling a bit as his attention seemed to drift once more.

“ _A what?_ ” Scott questioned, raising an eyebrow as he seemed to shift another piece of rubble out of the way, the movement punctuated by the mechanical sounds of the exo-skeletons. “ _Why would, uh, Joshua call you whatever that is? Tin-Tin? Translation, please._ ”

“ _Not… Joshua… Him… I… understand…_ ”

Tin-Tin almost wanted to yell at her friend to not say it. He was starting to drift and needed to focus on other things!

“ _Who, Alan?_ ” Jeff asked. “ _Is there someone else there with you?_ ”

“ _Hmm? Who…? Hehe… who… owls… who who…_ ”

Brains muttered what sounded like a curse under his breath. “We’re l-losing him. Damn it, boys! Hurry up!”

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/13 – 3:40 p.m. EST _

**Ground Zero, Scott**

They were getting close. At least halfway there, he hoped. Shifting through so much debris in the past few days had taken a toll on their mechanics, and he wondered how much more they could take. They were only meant to take so much over a certain amount of time – a time now long since passed.

Virgil and John had already gone down through the rubble, forging a path of their own to the source of the signal. It was no easy task and was taking quite a long time for the pair of brothers.

Worry filled the eldest brother as he thought of his four younger brothers. Two were injured – one with a condition that none of them knew – another was dealing with a horrid phobia in the worst possible fashion, and the last was probably worrying himself sick trying to assess Alan’s condition from what little data they had.

Truthfully, Scott wished that John had elected to stay up top with the mech suit instead of braving his inner demons and go down into the pile of death. He knew that John was not taking this well. The fact that Virgil had stop him before they made the initial descent told Scott that his brother was going to be scarred from this experience. It was why Scott had never pushed John into full Thunderbird training. No real rescues, no seeing death up close. John had been severely scarred by their mother’s death and finding her broken body.

New worry filled him as he broke up a slab of concrete into several smaller pieces and passed it up through the tunnel being created to the bucket brigade. What if John and Virgil got stuck? What if the unsteady infrastructure collapsed further due to all the new movement?

“Virgil? John? What’s your location?”

“ _Uh… We’re pretty far down. According to scans, we’re about to the first floor. Well, if the building was still standing, that is. Still have some ways to go,_ ” John responded.

Detecting the weak tremble in his silver blond brother’s voice, the brunette frowned. “John…”

“ _I’m fine, Scott. Really. I promise. I’m not coming back up. Besides, I have to make sure Virgil stays safe._ ”

“ _I do not need a babysitter,_ ” Virgil mumbled, causing Scott to laugh.

Turning his gaze towards his father in front of him, he wondered what was going through the older man’s mind.

“Boys, just be careful. We don’t need more injuries,” Jeff stated as he assessed a beam that was in their way. Why, oh why, did his mind drift back to October 7th? To digging his beloved out of the snow that had claimed her life. It was driving him insane almost, just thinking of the similarities between the two events. July 5th, October 7th, March 10th, and September 11th. Four dates that would forever scar the Tracy family – March 10th being the Hood’s invasion just three days prior to Alan’s fifteenth birthday and July 5th being the day of Gordon’s hydroplane accident.

Deciding that the beam was to be avoided, he aimed his sights a little lower below it, where he found a colored string that marked that Virgil and John had taken this path down. Were they safe? Unharmed? Was John coping? Was Virgil keeping himself calm despite the fear the medic must be going through?

Breaking the next slab beneath the beam to make it easier for them to make their way down, he paused. “Scott...” Another body had been found, crushed beneath the slab. A black coat with reflective markings. A firefighter. “Tell them we’re stopping to dig out a body. Get a rescue basket down here.”

“ _F.A.B._ ,” Scott responded, doing as directed.

Jeff hated the time now being spent rescuing a corpse. However, he knew it was a respect owed to the individual. A fellow rescuer whose life had been cut far too short. With a sigh, he informed his other two sons of their delay.

“ _Yeah, we’re having to backtrack a few times trying to reach him. It’s a maze down here – one I’d rather not do again,_ ” Virgil responded. “ _We’re going to take a five-minute rest, Commander._ ”

“F.A.B.” While he wanted to order Virgil to keep going, he knew that their task was far more dangerous, and they needed their wits about them. They were on their own, with only each other to protect and one mission in their heads – bring Alan home.

Together with his first born and another rescue worker, they began digging out the crushed form, Jeff finding himself dwelling on what Alan had said about Joshua being dead. How long had his son been talking to a corpse, expecting the other teenager to respond? How was this going to affect his mental state, to know that he was the only survivor of the Wharton Academy South Tower group? His peers were gone. The one who had almost gotten him out was decaying beside him.

With the help of a few others and precious time spent, the body was freed into a body bag and rescue basket, gently being passed up the line to the surface to be identified and reunited with friends and family for burial.

Pulling bodies free was something he would never get used to, no matter how many missions such things had happened. To feel the cold stiffness where life should have been being something he had expected when he had begun International Rescue, but at the same time he had always hoped it would never happen.

Jefferson Tracy knew the stark realities of life. He knew what death was. He knew the odds of survival. He knew that no matter what, you could not always save everyone. That was the fact of life, and anyone who thought otherwise was a fool. Sometimes they got lucky and everyone made it out. More often, however, there was a casualty.

Such as September 11th, a day filled with the deaths of thousands. A day he had thought he had lost one of his beloved sons. Jeff was not quite sure what he would have done if Brains had not suddenly had that brilliant idea about the unsecure line and that being why they could not hear from Alan. While messages had gone through, the Tracy Island security systems had not recognized the frequency that was trying to contact – thus it had blocked it. Filtered it out.

Sometimes Jeff hated how much security he had put into place to protect them all and their incredible machines. If not for Brains, that security would have cost him a son.

He owed Brains big time. They all did.

Brains, who had taken care of their baby for so long had once again saved him. His friend had given them the hope they so desperately needed. He had saved their family.

“ _Commander_?”

Jeff turned his attention to Scott for a moment as they took their own five-minute rest. “What is it?”

“ _I’m sorry. For… For what I said at base. For everything I’ve said in the past couple of days._ ”

Jeff’s brow furrowed. Freeing his arm from the mech, he reached over and squeezed his son’s shoulder. “Everything is forgiven, Scott. Tempers flew high. Right now, our attention needs to be on our boy. We will have time to discuss all of this later.” He would make sure of it. He would make sure that he was there for all his sons this time. Never again would they fall back into old habits. Life was too precious.

While they were already a close-knit family, some things were not said among them. Not enough, at least. No more.

The brunette nodded solemnly, dropping the subject. “ _Just hang in there, kiddo. We’ll be there soon,_ ” Scott reassured. “ _Just stay awake a little longer._ ”

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/13 – 8:50 a.m. HAST / 4:50 p.m. EST _

**Tracy Island Infirmary**

Gordon was grumpy. Brains had ordered him to bedrest, effectively kicking him out of the Command Center. So what if he had tried to commit mutiny and overthrow the scientist as the leader? All he had wanted was to have better access to his younger brother!

“Come on, Sprout! What’s going on with ya? You’ve been quiet. Did you fall asleep on me?” Gordon complained as he stared at his brother’s still holo-form. He had been given the task of keeping Alan going, and he was relishing in such responsibility. “I need some entertainment! Tell me about the racing!”

“ _Rather not…_ ” Alan murmured. “ _Head hurts…_ ”

“Now why would your head be hurting now? Thinking too much? You know that’s dangerous.” At the soft snort, Gordon knew he had succeeded yet again in keeping the youngest Tracy alive.

“ _Shut up, Gordo… I’ve done enough…_ ”

“No, you haven’t. You gotta stay awake. That’s the most important thing,” the redhead stated. “Can you do that for me? Virgil and John should almost be there, I would think. Right, fearless explorers?”

“ _Attempting. Navigating is fairly difficult,_ ” Virgil responded, his voice strained.

“See? Told you! They’ll be there soon enough.”

“You should be resting, Gordon,” Lady Penelope stated from the doorway as she wandered in with Parker trailing behind her. She held a warm smile upon her face. Like the others, she was simply delighted with the turn of events.

Gordon looked at her in surprise. “When did you two…?” He was pleased to see her, of course. Any Tracy was glad whenever Lady Penelope came calling – and not just because their father smiled more when she was around. She had, like Onaha, become a sort of mother to them all, though neither could ever replace Lucille.

“A few minutes ago, Master Gordon,” Parker responded, a smirk upon his face. They had been almost back to London when Brains had contacted them with the news. Immediately, without waiting for orders, he had turned around and gunned it for Tracy Island.

“Yes. We heard that you were in the infirmary after apparent mutinous treason and decided to come pay a visit when we arrived,” Penelope responded with a smile. “Almost home and then we received word of the wonderful news! That boy does have a flare for the dramatics!”

“Sorry, Lady P, but I’m not resting until they get Alan out,” he stated as he crossed his arms, glaring at the pair in a challenge. They could not make him sleep! “Besides, I was given the task of annoying him until they get there.”

“Oh, but you are. Your father’s orders. Alan has enough people keeping him going.” Truthfully, Lady Penelope agreed with Gordon on wanting to stay up, yet orders were orders, and Gordon fighting against his medications would just lead to trouble. “I will take over for you. Alan will understand. Won’t you, dearest?”

“ _Quite right,_ ” Alan quipped in the worst British accent he could manage. “ _Go to sleep… Gordon. Otherwise Virge… will come after you. All his orders…_ ”

“ _Excuse me, but those orders are to make sure people heal correctly, young man!_ ” Virgil argued.

“ _So bossy._ ”

“ _I am **not** bossy!_”

“C _ranky too!_ ”

“ _Ugh, I swear, kid!_ ”

Smiling, Penelope looked at the bedridden Tracy. “See? Come on, now, time for you to rest. By the time you wake, Alan will be free, and you can go visit him.”

Still, Gordon refused. “Kid was there for me almost every day after my accident. I can at least stay up until the Sprout is brought back.”

“ _All right, Gordon. All right,_ ” Jeff stated, shaking his holo-head.

The former Olympian grinned and clapped his hands together once. “Boom! I win.”

“ _Boy, I swear._ ”

Penelope chuckled and took a seat next to the ginger while Parker stood dutifully beside her until she requested he sit as well. “Alan, dear, how are you fairing?”

“ _Well… I’m being crushed, but other… than that, I guess… I’m fine. Just… got a bad headache now. I’d really like to sleep. It’s getting hard to breathe… The fires are getting so close…_ ”

“ _Fires? What fires?_ ”

“ _I feel like a baked potato… A really gross one._ ” He began coughing, harsh and wet.

“ _Alan, what fires?!_ ” Jeff demanded, a slight raise of panic in his otherwise calm voice.

“ _Can I just sleep…? It’ll hurt less… Heh… she’s back…_ ”

“She?” Gordon glanced at his two visitors in confusion.

“ _Mom…_ ”

The silence that filled the airways surprised the redhead. He remembered having such a vision back when he thought he was dying after his accident. He remembered how much he had wanted to go with her and leave the pain behind. Be with his mother again and regale her with stories of the family exploits. That was okay for him to do. Not Alan. He could not lose his brother this time. They were so close!

“Alan, you can’t go with her. I know you want to, but you can’t,” he stated softly. “I know how much you want to… How much _I_ wanted to when she came for me years ago. We’re fighters, you and me. Two peas in a pod of five. If you leave us, you know what we’ll be?”

“ _What?_ ”

“Even.”

“ _Even…? I don’t… Oh… Hehe… good one._ ”

Gordon grinned, happy that his little brother had seen through the joke. “With you, we’re odd. I don’t ever want to be even again. You’re our oddball. Our fifth. When you were born, I was so excited. I had a little brother of my own! Mom might have brought you into this world, but don’t you dare leave with her. Not yet. It’s too soon, Allie! If you leave me, what am I supposed to do? Torture the other three on my own? That gets boring after a while. Please, Al… Don’t give up and go with her. She can’t have you.”

“ _I’m trying… I’m trying… Hurts to breathe…_ ”

“I know, buddy. I know. It’s okay to tell her that you don’t want to go. Tell her that you’re going to fight for us and go home to Tracy Island.”

Lady Penelope smiled, listening to the brothers interact. Gordon had been right – he was perfect for this task. He and Alan had a lot in common in the aspect of having injuries and being at death’s door. Reaching over, she squeezed his hand, offering him a warm smile.

A crashing sound followed by a strangled scream and harsh coughing reached her ears, and her eyes flicked towards the holographic projector on Gordon’s lap that had gone dark for a moment before returning. “Alan?” The sickening coughs continued as it became apparent that at this point he was really struggling. She could see a spray of what she hoped was not blood leaving his mouth. Coughs turned to strangled gasps and whimpers. Whimpers to silence and very little movement.

“Alan?” Gordon breathed, staring at the projection. “ALAN! WAKE UP!”

This could not be happening! They had just been talking! What had happened to silence him? Why had things gone dark? Had something fallen on him? Gordon wanted answers, and no one was talking to him!

“ _We found him!_ ”

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/13 – 5:00 p.m. EST _

**Beneath the Rubble**

Good thing he was not claustrophobic or else this would be more of a nightmare than it already was. He could only imagine how bad of a panic attack Alan had had, given his Cliethrophobia. Being trapped in here… He did not want to think about it. Just being down here navigating through the Pile was giving him nightmares.

Virgil Tracy was not exactly pleased about climbing through bits of steel, concrete, metal rods, and by a few fires. The further down he went, the warmer it became, until he was sweating more than he had on the trip down. The air quality decreased greatly from the smoke and rising toxins. There were so many loose pieces that tripped and fell with each movement the two brothers made in their descent.

Looking ahead of him at his older brother shifting aside a smaller slab of concrete, he felt relief at not being made to do this task alone. He took comfort that he had his older brother here with him but did not take it for granted. He still worried that John might snap and lose his focus. Already they had run into a few other bodies, and though Virgil did his best to keep his brother distracted from such things, John still trembled.

Shifting his head lights, he looked around, nearly jumping out of his skin at the pale skin of a dead face that greeted him. Heart racing slightly, he moved past the body and continued downward, listening to the distant sounds of the bucket brigade and his father and elder brother working with their suits to dig them out.

“How ya doing, Johnny?”

“ _This feels like climbing through a junkyard._ ”

“That’s pretty much what it is, big brother.” Part of him wished he was not the team medic. Then he would not be in this predicament. Being the rescuer to climb down so far to reach their victims and stabilize them with the tools in his medical bag.

How far down had they traveled so far? Checking his readings on his helmet screen, he found that he had only gone down thirty feet, yet it had taken him hours. Alan’s signal was still another fifteen feet away from him through the maze of disaster.

He could hear Gordon and Alan talking about Mom, how Alan could see her, and Gordon telling his baby brother to not give up. To stay away from her and not go with her to a world with no pain.

Virgil’s heart ached at his brothers’ conversation. How desperate Gordon was in trying to get Alan to stay with them. To not go to their mother’s ghostly form. His own body ached for the chance to see their mother again, though he knew what seeing her meant – death was very close. In that, and only that, did he not want to ever see her again.

Up ahead, John pushed aside another gathering of broken rubble, letting out a yelp as one fell down a hole in front of him. Suddenly, the sounds of a strangled scream and harsh coughing reached his audio receptors on his helmet, and he looked down, flashlight shining down and illuminating the space below them as he sought out the source of the sound.

Eyes searching, he finally saw the slightest movement in a form that he barely recognized. “I found him! Brains, are you getting this?!”

“ _I am…_ ” Brains responded, drawing in a sharp breath.

Virgil moved up beside his brother, staring down at the broken form below them. Right below them, in the deepest part of the rubble, was their missing blond. As he looked him over, he discovered he could only see his body from the half the torso up. The rest was buried under a large broken slab of concrete. Running his special built in body scanner – a sort of x-ray device that Brains had designed especially for him – his eyes widened. He could see the multiple breaks in his arm, the tell-tale signs of a broken collarbone that was in extremely bad shape, cracked ribs… The list seemed endless. The concrete slab was interfering with his scanners, but he could imagine how bad his legs were. Would Alan ever walk again?

John bumped Virgil’s shoulder and held up two fingers and pointed to his helmet. Virgil, getting the message, switched to frequency two.

“ _How is he still alive?_ ” John asked as he assessed the situation, trying to find a way down to their brother who seemed to be at least eight feet down.

“I have no idea how he’s alive, but we’ve seen worse. He just got lucky. I can’t see through the slab properly, though. I’ll have to get down there and see if I can dig him out a little first. Don’t inform them just yet of what his condition is. They need to focus. This pocket is extremely unstable, according to scans. We’re going to have a tough time getting down it, let alone getting him out.”

“ _Be careful. I’ll be right behind you._ ”

“F.A.B.”

Looking for an anchor point, they attached a fresh line and Virgil lowered himself down into the void, every creak and shift of the rope forced adrenaline through his anxious body. “Alan? Kiddo, can you hear me?”

He had to repeat himself a few times. To his delight, he finally received a reply. “Virge…?”

He grinned brightly. “Hey’ya, Sprout! Up and at ‘em, kid! I’m almost to you!”

Alan groaned, opening his eyes slowly, flinching at the harsh light. “Turn… that… off.”

“Can’t do that, kid. I need to see where I’m going! You might be used to the darkness, but I’m not. Frankly, how you managed to see to repair your watch in this darkness is surprising.” Feeling his foot land on steady ground, he disconnected his tether and landed fully. “You next, John!” He stretched a bit, pleased to be standing at last, and moved over to his baby brother, crouching beside him. “Hey, Alan. I’m here.” With a small smile, he ran a hand over his brother’s hair, ignoring how disgusting it was. Right now, he was in heaven knowing that he was finally by his brother’s side. “I’m here… You’re not alone anymore.”

Catching movement, he glanced over to his right arm, sighing when he found Alan moving it. Reaching out, he gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m here.”

A weak but genuine smile crossed the teenager’s face. “You… found me…” he whispered, voice cracking as his eyes found his brother’s chocolate ones.

Virgil nodded, smiling. “We’ve found you,” he confirmed, gently stroking his brother’s cheek. “We found you…” Looking him over again, he knew he had to try and keep him in high spirits. “You seem to be the pickle in one of Scott’s completely disgusting sandwiches, Sprout. Try not to move around too much, okay? You’re pretty beat up.”

“Managed… so far. Is that…?” he responded, staring at the descending helmeted figure as Virgil reached into his bag and pulled out a spare oxygen tank and mask.

“Yup. That’s Johnny. No one could keep him away from coming after you,” Virgil smiled, slipping the mask over Alan’s face, swatting away his hand a bit when the teenager tried to pull the mask closer to his face. “Not even all the…” He shook his head. “Whoa, easy. Just breathe, kiddo. I’m going to splint your arms after I start two IVs and give you some medicine to dull the pain and perk you up a bit. Let me run another scan over you. Where are you hurting the most?”

“Ch-Chest… Something… fell on me…”

“Other than the two buildings?”

“Just… before you… got here…”

“Ah…” Virgil frowned, looking up at John. Had he accidentally knocked rubble down on the teenager? Shaking his head, he returned his gaze back to his younger brother, running another scan directly over the chest. “Alan, I’m going to need you to stay very still. You’ve got a broken clavicle and fractured sternum. I don’t want you puncturing a lung, so stop moving.” He was not about to tell his brother that he already had done so, which was why he was having more trouble breathing. At least it was recent and not an older injury. “I’m going to slip this c-collar on you, okay?”

“’Kay…”

John finally landed on the ground and made to move over to his brothers when Virgil stopped him, asking him to cover up Joshua’s body with a blanket from the field kit. The blond glanced around for a moment before spotting the mostly buried teenager. “Right…” Swallowing nervously, he pulled the blanket from the kit and turned towards the corpse, doing his best to not give in to his fears. He had made it all the way here! Letting Alan see him throw up because of his fears would just make the kid feel worse than he already did.

Closing his eyes as he covered the body, he silently prayed for the soul, hoping Joshua would find peace in rest. He thanked him too for saving their Alan. If Alan had been towards the top of the South Tower… if Joshua had followed their orders to stay put… both would have been killed when the collapse began. He would see that the teenager was somehow honored.

Rising up, he moved back over towards his brothers and crouched down as close to Alan’s head as he could get. “Hey, buddy…” Silently, he helped Virgil begin securing Alan’s arms as the medic searched for a place to start the central line. John hung the fluid from the exposed rods to the teenager’s left upon Virgil’s satisfied mutter at finding a viable vein.

“Uh, Virge? Isn’t that…” John began, staring at the exposed wiring of the exo-skeletal leg.

Virgil stared at it a moment, pausing in what he was doing. A million thoughts ran through his mind as he tried to understand what was going on. How had the exo-suit gotten down here? Why were the wires… One of them seemed to be leading down to the watch. Had Alan powered his watch with the battery in the leg?

“I’ve… been thinking…” Alan murmured, looking at the leg with a smile. “Jaws of Life?”

Virgil snapped his attention back to his younger brother. Questions could wait, though he desperately wanted answers. “Jaws of life?”

“Instead… of exo-skeletons. We’re not bugs, ya know…”

“Huh. Jaws of Life. I like it.” Opening another syringe filled with antibiotics to help combat the infection that was causing his brother’s fever, he pushed it through the central line. When that was done, and Alan was as secure as possible, Virgil turned and began assessing the slab. “Alan, can you move your toes?”

“One foot… Um… the right,” he responded, grimacing at the confines of the arm braces and c-collar. The feeling of being more trapped was terrifying. It was only John’s reassuring hand on his head that kept him calm.

“What about the left?”

“Nothing below… the knee.”

“I see.” Virgil glanced at John worriedly. “Well, Sprout, I’m going in after your legs. Going to dig you out. Johnny will take care of you. You yell for me if he screws up, okay? See you in a bit!” He would have sent his older brother down to dig, but as he had a smaller body in both height and build, he was the best for the job. Plus, depending on what he found down there, his medical expertise would be needed greatly.

John nodded, watching his younger brother begin his task of trying to dig out their brother. Turning his attention back to Alan, he smiled. “So, Sprout. How are you doing?” At the dark look he received in return, he laughed a bit. Removing his helmet and setting it aside, he noticed that Alan’s eyes brightened at actually seeing his face. “That’s better, huh? Seeing my handsome mug instead of one of those ugly helmets!”

Alan’s eyes creased from a small smile. “Uh-huh. Mines… better.”

“Oi! I take resentment to that!”

“Who’s… got the… girlfriend?”

“Now that’s a low blow!” John laughed. “Completely true, though. Who could resist your handsome mug?” Noticing that Alan’s eyes were sliding shut again, he gently patted his cheek. “Hey, bud. Wake up for me. No sleeping allowed just yet. You don’t want Virgil to get after both of us, do you?”

“Bossy.”

“That he is,” John snorted.

Virgil’s head popped back up as he continued shifting debris out of the way. “I heard that.” Spotting that Alan was falling asleep again, he shifted closer to him with a frown as he quickly pulled off his helmet. What could they talk about that would keep him awake? “John, got any ideas?” he whispered, as he checked the teenager’s pulse.

John glanced at him. “On?”

“What to talk to him about. Gotta keep him awake.”

“Oh, that’s easy. Tell him what your favorite star is!”

“I don’t have a favorite star!” he bit his lip. “Quick, give me a star.”

Oh, this was _too_ easy. Almost cruelly easy. Leaning close to his ear, John spoke to him. He did not want to spoil it for Alan, as he knew his youngest brother would get a crack out of it.

Virgil raised an eyebrow at what was whispered to him but nodded. “Uh, sure.” Clearing his voice, he spoke up louder. “Hey, Alan, want to know my favorite star?”

The teenager blinked, staring at him with confused eyes. “You have a favorite star?”

“Yeah! It’s Star #I-R-N-I-D-I-O-T-2!”

Alan stared at him for a moment more, contemplating this. Eyes crinkling as realization dawned on him, he started to laugh until he was gasping for air and from the pain in his ribs and chest. The tears of laughter continued, much to Virgil’s confusion as he went over the star’s serial number a few times in his head. When realization hit, he groaned.

“JOHN! You are a jerk!”

John nearly doubled over. Wiping away tears of mirth, he grinned brightly. “It worked, didn’t it? Easy, Alan. We can pick on Virgil more later. Now that we’re together, you and I can team up against the rest of them!”

Glancing over at the laughing but pained filled youngest Tracy, Virgil was not quite sure that had been the best idea. “You are _both_ such jerks. Just because I don’t know that much about space.” He huffed and returned to his work.

“You should try sometime. It’ll be educational,” Alan wheezed. “The stars are… so pretty…”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Why do you care so much about the stars anyway, kid? Seems kind of odd for a speed demon to watch things that don’t really move.”

“Virgil _…_ ” John sighed, wincing.

“It’s a valid question. I’m curious.”

Alan’s gaze lowered as he gathered his thoughts. He had to wait until the pain subsided enough for him to draw a deep enough breath. “I’m not like the…rest of you. I don’t remember Mom. Not the way you guys do. I don’t remember her…smile, her warm hugs, her…lullabies, stories… I don’t remember. I try, but I can’t. All I remember…other than her dying…is her love of the stars. I feel like I can connect… with her there. It’s all I have.”

The brunette paused and stared at the younger boy. Sometimes he forgot how young Alan had been when their mother had been killed in the avalanche. The very accident that he foolishly blamed his brother for from time to time. The memory that Alan could not rid himself of. Guilt filling him, he averted his gaze. “I feel like an ass now,” he muttered to his older brother.

“Being a doctor automatically qualifies you for one, Virge.”

“Shut it, Space-nut.”

“ _Virgil, what is Alan’s condition?_ ” Jeff’s voice rang out, startling all three of them.

Ah, right. He had forgotten to key back in his father and rest of his brothers. Picking up his helmet and returning it to his head, he answered his father, keeping outward speakers off. “Yes, well… He’s alive.”

“ _Virgil._ ”

“It’s bad. One arm broken in three places, broken clavicle on the other side. Both have bone fragments from being rubbed together. He’s been moving them, so he could fix his watch it seems.” He winced a bit, imagining the excruciating pain his brother had gone through in a desperate effort to be heard. “Possible punctured lung from a slab of concrete falling on him while we were climbing down. Fractured sternum and at least two ribs. I cannot tell at this point if he has internal bleeding, but if he does it’s recent.”

Jeff sucked in a breath, as did the other voices belonging to other members of their large family. Only John and Alan remained silent, as Virgil had waved his brother from putting on his helmet.

“He’s buried from the waist down but has feeling from his right leg all the way down. Claims that he can feel nothing just below the knee of his left leg. I’m still trying to dig around it to get a better scan, but…,” he bit his lip, not sure how to get the words he needed to out. Not with the others hearing. Quickly, he switched to his father’s private frequency. “Dad, you need to get down here. Pass the Jaws of Life to someone else. Alan named them, by the way, before you ask.”

“ _Are you saying that you may have to amputate?_ ”

He almost flinched at the tone his father was using. Dark and dangerous. Barely controlled rage – not directed at him, but at the people who had done this to their baby. “That is exactly what I’m saying. I won’t know for sure until I get a better look at the leg, but from what he is saying and how long it has been pinned…,” he sighed. This was something he hated thinking about. Field amputations were sometimes necessary in their line of work, but this was _Alan_. His baby brother.

“ _Congealed blood? Clots…_ ”

“If I free it, yes. If he cannot feel the lower limb, and has not for some time, then it may already be dead and filled with dead cells and blood clots. If I free that limb, even with a tourniquet, it’ll kill him within minutes.” He had already placed a tourniquet just above the knee as a precaution.

The Tracy patriarch took a deep breath. “ _Consult with Brains on options. I’m on my way._ ”

“F.A.B.” Closing his eyes for a moment after taking off his helmet again, Virgil lay flat next to his brother’s form, working on what he could. The more he dug, the better he could slide the backboard in place. “John, remind me to tell Brains thanks for making all my tools and equipment so much more portable. Keep Alan busy. I’m going back under. You work on things up here. Dad’s on his way.”

That worried the older Tracy. Why was their father coming down? What was Virgil not telling him? “Gotcha. So, Sprout, how are you doing?” He reached into his helmet and pulled out the portable headset, hooking it in place on his ear. Reopening the frequency to everyone, he sighed with relief at the flood of voices he heard, though was confused as to why they were asking why they were questioning what was going on. Had not Virgil informed them of Alan’s medical status? What was he hiding?

“Could be better,” Alan muttered from beneath his mask as his eyes flicked in the direction of his fellow blond, who was gently stroking his cheek in a comforting manner. “I missed you, Johnny.”

“I think I’ve missed you more, little star-ling. We’re going to get you out of here. I promise. And then we’re going to sit up on Satellite Hill and watch the stars all night long.” He pushed some rubble out of the way, shifting the backboard down a little further. “I don’t know how you managed to get yourself pinned or how you get yourself into these messes, but that takes talent, kiddo.” At his brother’s answer, he frowned. “Watch your mouth. What would Dad think? I’m surprised Virgil hasn’t come out and smacked you for your potty mouth.”

“At this point I don’t give a fu-”

“ALAN!” John had to force himself to hide his smirk at his brother’s daring. With Gordon’s roaring laughing in his ear, he almost lost it.

“ _Sprout’s got a mouth on him!_ ” Gordon giggled childishly. “ _I’m so proud!_ ”

“ _Kid, I know you’re in a tough spot, but there is no reason for such language,_ ” Scott reprimanded. “ _Gordon, don’t enable him._ ”

“Pretty sure there is,” Alan snapped back. “So shut your cakehole.”

“ _ALAN!_ ”

“ _Ah, come on, Scott. This is hilarious,_ ” Gordon argued, holo-form grinning broadly.

“ _That does not matter! John, explain that to him!_ ”

“Oh, no, I’m staying out of this one,” John responded. “Don’t think I haven’t heard you use such language before, Scott. Remember when you burned your hand because you stupidly forgot that Onaha had only just turned off the burner?”

“I remember that!” Alan grinned, waking up a bit more from his sluggish state, though his voice was laced with fresh pain.

“ _John, I don’t understand why you can’t just take my side and get after the kid for his vulgarity_ ,” Scott complained yet again. “ _You’re supposed to be the voice of reason, I thought!_ ”

“Alan and I have a pact. Star pact. Nope. I know his secrets, he knows mine, and we both know that you _suck_ at cooking.” He winked at his younger brother, who’s eyes crinkled with amusement.

“ _What?! I do not!_ ”

“Your cookies taste like sweaty feet, Scotty,” Alan wheezed. “You’re a terrible cook.”

Virgil smiled, listening to the bickering, as he knew his father was doing. It had to be the only reason why Jeff Tracy had not joined in yet with the argument among brothers. That, and his extreme worry mirrored by the doctor himself.

“ _My cookies do not taste like feet…_ ”

The middle brother and father could not hold back their laughter at the resounding “Yes, they do!” coming over the lines.

“ _Ugh! Little brothers!_ ”

John shook his head, listening to the argument going on. At least Alan was staying awake, which was the most important thing right now. He could hear his brother struggling a bit with his breathing, which worried him greatly. “Easy, Sprout. Don’t overdo it, okay? As funny as talking about Scooter’s cookies are.” John looked thoughtful for a moment. “Hey… Tell me about racing. You told me you only did the one race.”

“I… lied. Totally kept racing.”

“Alan…” He pinched his brow but knew this was no time to scold him. “Who the heck has been teaching you?” When Alan’s eyes filled with pain, John frowned. “Al?”

“Doesn’t… Doesn’t matter. He’s dead, too.” He finally looked at his brother. “I’m the last one, aren’t I?”

The pain written across his baby brother’s face made the older blond want to weep. Alan knew that he was all that was left of his group. Pausing in his careful digging, he moved back to his brother’s head and brushed his lips against the ashen forehead. “I’m sorry, Al… I’m so sorry…” he murmured against the gritty flesh.

“Why me, John? Why did I have to live? They had lives, too…”

“I know they did. What happened… What happened was cruel and unfair to everyone.”

“Did anyone else…?”

“Survive? Yes. Twenty others.”

“Out of how many?”

John bit his tongue. “A lot. We don’t know for sure.”

“What makes us so special?”

Turning his attention to Alan’s watch and the phone, he gathered them up and placed them within a secure pocket of the field kit. The exo-leg would have to be carried out. “Alan, now is not the time for philosophical questions. Please, don’t do this to yourself. I don’t know what the answer is. I wish I did. You have no idea how much I wish I held all the answers. See, even with all the technology of ‘Five, I couldn’t stop this. I had no idea it was going to happen. So many lives were lost because…”

“Don’t blame yourself, John. This does not fall on any of us.”

John lifted his head, spotting his father making the climb down to them. Relief flooded him now that the conversation was going to switch. “Hey, Dad. Al, I’m going to move so you can have some time with Dad, okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

John nodded and stood up, stretching a bit. “Dad?”

Jeff shook his head, taking off his helmet and looking at his two blond sons. “Help Virgil. Follow his orders exactly. No deviations.” His voice was strained with the knowledge he held captive. “That’s an order.” He knew that he should not be holding back the information from his second child, but there was no way he could inform him without John accidentally freaking out Alan. He would leave that to Virgil.

As soon as John had disappeared down by Virgil, Jeff sighed and moved over to his youngest, kneeling down next to him. Lovingly, he brushed his son’s sweaty hair away from his forehead, frowning at the scabbed cut that scarred the boy’s hairline. “Hey, Alan…” What he would give to not be here, knowing what was about to happen. In a matter of anxiety-filled minutes, his son’s life – all their lives, really – would change.

“Dad…” Alan lifted his watery eyes up in his father’s direction. Just hours ago, he had been alone. Now he had three members of his family by his side! He was ready to pass on if they would allow it. He had fulfilled his quest. Seen them – most of them, anyway – one last time. Yet, he was still not willing to give in. There was a spark of a fight remaining within his body. He wanted to go home. Yet, why was his father here? Had he not been using the Jaws of Life to dig a path down to where he was?

Was he dying? Was that why Virgil had called their father down? Why were his father’s azure eyes filled with pain and sorrow? Fear? “I’m okay, Dad… I… I made it.”

“You did,” Jeff confirmed, offering what comfort he could to his broken child. “You proved to us yet again that you are a survivor. You beat the odds, kiddo. I don’t know how you did it, but you made it. We’re going to bring you home.” After that, Jeff did not know what they would do. When Virgil needed to amputate, how was Alan going to cope with losing part of his leg? His whole life was going to change.

At only sixteen, his whole world was going to shift. How many times throughout his life had such things happened? Three, if Jeff was thinking correctly – the avalanche that had almost taken his life, the Hood’s invasion and mental torture, and this imprisonment and impending amputation.

Sure, there were ways to give him back his mobility. There were prosthetics, always improving. So many different forms, ranging from the normal to more adventurous such as robotic. At least, he figured that robotic limbs had come out by now. Even if they had not, surely Brains could come up with something, right? He would not allow his son to let life slip him by because of this. They would figure this out together.

He had so many plans for Alan’s future with International Rescue. Alan had so many plans – all of them revolving around Thunderbird Three. Jeff knew that it was still possible, however faint. Plans could be made. The new Thunderbird, currently dubbed Mach Two, was still unfinished. There was time to make changes still so that Alan could continue his dreams of space travel. His want of being of use to his family.

Jeff refused to give up on his child. Alan had always been filled with big dreams and crazy ideas. More than once it had landed him in a lot of trouble, just as his temper led to rows between the two of them. However, Jeff now realized that the reason why Alan let things escalate so much was due to wanting the attention. Craving it.

Well, now his son would receive all the attention he could handle! They would all see to that – him especially. He would give Lucille’s final gift all the love he required and then some. Alan would recover from this. He had to hold on to that one hope.

“Dad? I’m ready. Scott’s almost here. It’s time.”

Virgil’s quiet voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and the father looked up at him. “You have something to numb the pain, correct?”

“Not all the way, but it’ll be better than going in outright. I cannot give him too much, given what I’ve already given him,” Virgil confirmed. “His other leg is completely clear and splinted.” Moving back from underneath the slab, he helped his older brother back up and sent him towards their father, yet close enough to help him. They had spoken of what was to happen while digging under the slab, and while John was not pleased he at least understood why it had to happen.

Jeff nodded, watching as his doctor of a son dug around within the field kit, first passing them a medium roll of bandages to put in Alan’s mouth so he did not bite his tongue when it happened. Taking the offering, he turned to his youngest as Virgil prepared the numbing agent. “Alan? I’m going to put this in your mouth, okay?”

“Why? What’s… going on?” he slurred, eyes dulled a bit more than they had been. Time was running out.

“This is going to hurt, kiddo, but it’s what we have to do, okay?” He ignored the confusion in his son’s eyes as he looked at his other two present sons. “Boys, radio silence. Everyone else, see you on the other side.” He knew that only Brains knew what was about to happen, and he did not need their large family and friends to completely lose it in his ears.

John and Virgil nodded, switching off their communications to give everyone else the peace they could.

Alan looked at his father fearfully. What was going on? Hearing a strange sound, he tried to see what his family was doing. Why could he not see Virgil?! “Dad?! John?!”

Jeff used the opportunity to stuff the bandage roll into his son’s mouth after removing the oxygen mask. “This will be over in a minute, Alan.”

The teenager gasped and struggled, not liking what his father was doing to him. Why had he stuffed something in his mouth?! The white-hot pain suddenly washed over him as a bloodcurdling scream tore from his throat, barely muffled by the roll. Never had he felt such agony! Even in his feverish state, the blinding pain of whatever it was shot throughout his system.

Jeff and John immediately had their hands on him, trying to keep him steady and non-moving so Virgil could continue to cut through flesh and bone. Each trying to provide some comfort to their youngest member as they prayed this horrifying moment passed quickly. However, even with the ion laser, it would still take at maximum a minute to finish. A minute that would no doubt haunt them for years to come.

The overbearing stench of melting flesh was enough to make even the strongest man want to vomit. Somehow though, the Tracys remained steady. It was not the first amputation they had to provide in the field, but it was the most personal. The ion laser was the safest and most medically-clean way to get the job done by instantly cauterizing the wound as it was cut.

How Alan had not blacked out from the pain at this point was surprising to the middle Tracy. Most others would have given in to the pain. Virgil blamed it on the genetic stubbornness they all shared.

How he wished his baby brother would just collapse from the pain and slip into the comforting darkness that would end his suffering if only for a little while. Amputation recovery was no easy task. Alan would be put through years of phantom pains that could take anywhere between minutes and hours to recover from. There would be days where he would be pain free, and others where he would still feel like he had two full legs. This would be something that would last a lifetime.

He did not want to do this. Take away his brother’s full mobility. Leave part of him behind to decay in the rubble. He wanted his brother to have come away from this in one piece. Now he was going to be forever haunted by the decision he had been forced to make. He could only hope that Alan would not blame him for this.

He could feel the cutter in his hand growing hot as he reached the end of his task. No sooner did he finish the amputation did the device explode in his hand, sending shards through his gloves and burning his exposed face. A surprised cry left his lips as agonized pain began to flow through him.

Jeff was by his side in an instant, while John finished the task of pulling his youngest brother free and onto the rest of the backboard. What the hell had happened?! That was when he saw it. Alan’s eyes were no longer cerulean, but purple – lilac, if he had to be accurate. Normally, he would have chalked this up to a trick of the lighting, but the almost hourglass slits could not be explained by such simplicity. What was going on? The only one he had ever seen with such eyes were Tin-Tin and Kyrano!

Alan panted heavily as the burst of energy left him. He could hear Virgil’s agonized cries echoing the pain that filtered throughout his own body but could not place what was wrong with his brother. All he knew was that he was in pain and his head felt like it was about to implode.

He did not even register the voice of his oldest brother finally arriving before the world around him darkened into nothing.

“Dad! Alan’s out!” John cried, looking over at his father and middle brother. Carefully, he pulled the roll of bandages out of his brother’s mouth and tossed them aside. They were useless now. He replaced the oxygen mask and relaxed just slightly.

“Pass me another roll! Quickly!” Jeff ordered, trying to keep Virgil from touching his blistered face. How had this happened? Not once had any of their equipment outright _exploded_! As soon as the roll was in hand, he began wrapping it around his son’s face, protecting it the best he could. Had any shards gotten into Virgil’s eyes? He was not about to take any chances. “Scott, John, get Alan passed up. Then help me with Virgil!”

John nodded, doing what he could as quickly as was possible without making any mistakes. That was something they could not afford at this time. Not with another injured Tracy.

Strapping Alan to the backboard, he then used a new bandage roll to make sure that the stub below the left knee was properly taken care of. Once he was sure everything was as good as it could be, he grabbed for the ropes tossed down by a rescue worker beside Scott.

Finished securing them, he began the process of helping lift Alan to the awaiting hands of his fellow rescuers. Only then did he turn to help his father put the helmet back on Virgil to protect his dignity and pack up the field kit, as well as making sure the exo-leg was attached with some binding. Securing it all on his back, he climbed up after his father and brothers, making sure that he told one of the men that there was a student’s body down below that needed to be dug out and brought back to his family.

After three days, the nightmare had finally come to an end. The long road to recovery was all that lay before them.

_.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~._

_ 9/13 – 6:40 p.m. EST _

**Hostile Outlaw Observation Prison, Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean**

His features creased into a smile as he watched the Tracy boy be pulled out of the rubble and down the long line of cheering rescue volunteers, the footage captured by a camera drone for the world to see. The teenager looked absolutely dreadful, ashen and covered in filth and blood. He was fairly bandaged as well, and…

“Oh, this is quite a _kejutan_ ,” he murmured as the camera drone got an up-close look at the teenager, revealing that he appeared to be missing half a leg. “Did Virgil do that, I wonder? I believe he was the _doktor_. Oh, how that must have crushed him to take away something so necessary. Regardless, this may make my task that much easier. Are you aware, Alan, of what your dear brother has done? _Daripada pengkhianatan yang telah dilakukannya_?” Such a betrayal, really, that had been committed.

The Hood knew that Alan would react badly to what had been done to his leg, even if it was necessary – it had to have been, given that Jeff Tracy never would have allowed it otherwise. With such an action, he had limited what the boy would be able to do. Practically prevented him from becoming one of that sickening rescue team or any of his other asperations. It would destroy him, and through him the rest of the family. If not from anger, then from guilt.

Perfection.

It would be easier to mold a depressed teenager than a headstrong one. Alan had emerged from the wreckage a changed being in many ways. Flustering new powers, loss of a leg, and into a brand-new world. He would never be the same again – at least not fully.

If he was going to put his plans into place, he needed a broken soul to rebuild.

His joy only grew when the drone caught sight of the four emerging Tracys, one of which seemed to be supported by two of the others, his hands bound with thick white bandages.

“My, my… Alan, what have you done? I thought I had felt a burst of power from you… You have injured one of your precious family! _Hanya cantik_! Soon, Alan… Soon you will be of great use to me. Your power can only grow from this point, and I will be sure that it is properly used, my little _mekanik_.”

He knew that Alan would seek him out at some point wanting information. Aid. They shared a connection, and he would be able to help the boy in ways that the others could not. Not even his brother and beloved niece would be able to give him the answers he sought. If only his poor mother had survived her accident. She could have taught him, if she had been aware of her own abilities.

Alan would come to him. It was just a matter of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that’s it! That’s the end of ‘Darkest Hours’! However, the story is not over yet! There WILL be a sequel entitled ‘Flickering Light’. I am hoping I am up to the challenge of tackling things that the Tracys will be going through following the events of 9/11. Their recovery, Alan learning to cope with his new disabilities and abilities, as well as finding out just what the Hood has planned… 
> 
> I hope that I have caught your attention with this story, and with that, I will tell you some small facts. Only twenty survivors were pulled from the rubble of the Towers. Over 2,000 people perished, the youngest being only two, along with her mother and father. Many rescue workers were killed while just trying to save lives. The search and rescue dogs fell into a depression at finding mostly death. The final survivor was pulled from the rubble after being buried for twenty-seven hours. To this day, some remains have never been recovered or identified.
> 
> I have tried to stay as true as possible to real events while intertwining Thunderbirds. I know many of you had hoped that I might change reality, that the Thunderbirds would have been able to save more lives, but I did not wish to mock those that died. To change reality for something so tragic is something I refuse to do. 
> 
> If you have enjoyed this story, perhaps you will join me for the sequel. I do not know when it will be out, but I do know that it will be eleven chapters. 
> 
> Also… I’m sure you’ve noticed that I’ve thrown in some movie/movie rewrite references. Can you guess what plot bunny has been attacking me? That’s right. Coming soon is ‘Taking Flight’, my very own movie rewrite! And those that know me know that it will be quite the journey! I already have it started, and have over thirty pages of ideas written out! I know that there have been a few movie rewrites, but this one will be written from my very own imagination. You have seen some things scattered throughout this story for it, and while not all of those things may not be the real snippet. Just a preview of what I’m going to be doing with this new story…
> 
> Thank you for all the reviews! 
> 
> See you next time!

**Author's Note:**

> I know many of you wished I would continue the original story, but I’m my writing style has changed, so I am restarting and hope to do this right. Looking back on the original story, I found some issues with it I disliked very much, mistakes, and some things I felt I didn’t take seriously enough, not to mention some rather confusing things that even I don’t remember writing. Forgive me, but I was in High School and just really starting at writing. 
> 
> I’m going to give it the quality it so rightfully deserves now, though. The length, too. Also, as of publishing this, I am OFFICIALLY done with the story. It is written out, and, minus a few tweaks and bonus scenes, it is completely done. So, don’t worry about me not finishing it this time! I apologize if you aren’t happy with me not finishing the original, but it is something I felt I needed to do, and I welcome those from my original story to rejoin me once more as I return to one of the first fandoms I wrote for. The first fandom that I got serious about writing for. The first fandom that I really started challenging myself to write better. 
> 
> Now after writing for another fandom for seven years, I am returning to finish my original novel. I believe I have grown enough as a writer to properly tackle this story, and I hope you all can see this. This story will be dealing with sensitive material, and some things may change from the original version, but there may not be many – on the contrary, a lot may change as well. We’ll just have to see the further along we go. I will try to keep this story rated T.
> 
> I’ve also added in some ideas that I wanted to before, but when I looked back at the original story ideas [that I finally found again] I saw how bad they were. And then I thought of something new. I always questioned why exactly Alan had been so good at piloting the Thunderbirds when he had no training with them [in the 2004 movie]. And why it seemed like when the Hood mentally attacked him, it was not as bad as when Penelope and Parker were attacked. Why could Alan simply shake it off? Was the Hood being lenient with him because he was a child, or was it something more?
> 
> Oh, and one more thing! I’ve mixed some things from ‘Thunderbirds Are Go’ 2015 in, as I’ve fallen in love with that show, and keeping some things from 2004 while also mixing the original series [like Alan’s love of racecars [as I believe that’s what that is from, forgive me if I’m wrong], a hint of Speed Racer [the races Alan mentions, but no actual characters from the fandom] and actual reality to create a compelling new story. I also changed some minor details for the movie as well. See if you can spot the mixtures! 
> 
> Another thing, real quick [yeah, I know], I’m not sure where exactly in the South Pacific Tracy Island is located, so I put their time zone as HAST, or Hawaiian time. That was a mistake I made in original story, I believe. As far as I know, they are American citizens, so I figured they’d be somewhere near the USA, right? It would still take them time to fly to location, though. Also, this takes place is a far more futuristic 2001 [hence International Rescue], so reality is a bit warped, too. Or you can choose it to take place in the future. Up to you. I’m not giving a year it takes place.
> 
> FINAL THING. Lmao Okay, so in the live action movie [which is the main storyline I’m working with], Alan was played by Brady Corbert [forgive me if I misspelled] and the dude’s final height is only 5’8”, so from pictures I’ve found, Alan IS the shortest in the family. Scott – 6’1”; John – 6’0”; Virgil – 5’9”; Gordon – 5’10”; Jeff – 6’0”. Haha, Even Fermat’s final height is 5’9”. Poor Alan. I also adjusted the ages a bit, too. 
> 
> First and last chapters will be the longest! The rest will be between 12-14 pages, whereas the first and last are 18-20+? Yeah, I’ll admit my writing got away from me in quite a few places. Plus, I figured you all deserve a super long first chapter since I made you wait about seven years for this story. 
> 
> I just wanted to give a shoutout to my biggest TB influences – CriminallyCharmed, Shadowfox8, and LittleMissBump. To this day, your stories still inspire me, and your characters helped me figure out how to properly get things written out.
> 
> Welcome back to my Thunderbirds story, and I hope you enjoy and this was worth the ridiculously long wait!
> 
> DISCLAIMER! I DO NOT OWN THUNDERBIRDS


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